No one can Hear, if there is No Cry for Help

July 21, 2011
By Anonymous

I wanted to be a supermodel.

Who doesn’t, really?

I wanted to be gorgeous.

I was frightening

I was every rib defined, stomach swooping just under the upside-down ‘U’ of my rib cage.

I was elbows and knees thicker than upper arms and legs; wrists and ankles thicker than calves and fore-arms.

I was perpetual hunger, emerging like an old friend when the smell of food gave me the dry-heaves.

I was hip bones straining against skin, sharp.

I was cheekbones defined, dark circles against pallid skin, eyes sunken and hungry and searching, with hollow cheeks, shadows crawling from the precipice that was my lower jaw against my neck.

I was a spinal column erupting, each bony knob crying out in pain as it begged for escape.

I didn’t want to be slim and trim.

I didn’t want to be skinny

I wanted to be skeletor;

And dead.

The author's comments:
This was inspired by a very good friend of mine. It's written from her point of view, because she can no longer write herself.

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This article has 1 comment.

on Jul. 23 2011 at 9:39 pm
CountryGirl31297 SILVER, Newnan, Georgia
7 articles 0 photos 4 comments
ohmygosh i love this! its horribly sad and raw! its very well written and very discriptive :) great job!


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