I feel like I’m a piece of string being pulled till there’s nothing left.

My bones start rising underneath my skin like a crocodile’s back in the water.

 Skin turns to lace, and my veins become the pattern. I can see my bodies skeleton; bones turn to pebbles creeping out from the river. People used to take pride in my self-control now they take pity.

Everybody likes seeing pointy figures and hollow stomachs on a screen or a runway. When they see it up close it looks more like pain than beauty. When they see it up close, they see the thinning hair, the dark circles, and the bodies full of nothing but the desire to control.

Society finds it disgusting that people work for their bones to peak through, to make their skin stain glass. But come to realize their mouths say the praise and their hand pulls the string.

 It’s disgusting until its beauty.