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Pretty Girls

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Pretty girls will hold their breath until their hipbones stick out of a tank top. I will hold my breath until everything disappears and I get to that place that I am going. Pretty girls have always mystified me. What makes beauty? Raw, sharp, clean, white, pure, gnaw until you tear me apart, as long as I turn out beautiful. It does not matter now, four years later that I was a prodigy at 13. What matters is if my heart is beating out blood to contrast the stark white my body is forcing my bones to be. Sick sick sick. I am sick sick sick. I am becoming nothing, but everything is everything.



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