Beautiful Tragedy

I'm sick.

I lick my lips and want from Ana and Mia,

They're just stunning like that.

I eat and cry and eat and cry and before I know it

BAM!

Girl, you are a size 18.

And cry some more.

I'm a hypocrite. 

I tell my friends to love who they are,

So f*****g special,

I promise.

You're not.

You're average.

I'm average.

Zero. Zero. Zero.

Oh, how I want you.

I want you more than any boy.

Any sweater.

Any song.

I want to be all angles and shadows,

And cheekbones,

And baggy clothes,

And pretty.

And pretty tragic.

I want to see the notches in my spine.

I want to see the sun shine through the gap between my thighs.

I want to be that tiny silhouette at the windowsill.

I want to wear ripped up, size zero jeans like I've just crawled my way right out of my own dark

fairy tale.

I want to be a beautiful tragedy. 

I'm sick.

I hate that I know that I'm sick.

I hate that I know that I'm sick and I still can't let them go.

Ana. You're strict. But fair. I love you.

Mia. You're stubborn. But I kinda f*****g love you, too. 

Author's Note

This is how I feel right now. Honestly. It's wrong, I know. But I cannot help it. I just can't.

Reviews

[Samoda]

that's really good use of repetition to drive the powerful words home.. i liked it because it was different and honest