Who is that? That reflection. "Oh, it's you." They reply.
Is it really?
I look in the mirror. I see a flaw. One turns to two, two turns to twenty.
"You're so amazing!"
Where do they get this from? The flaws grow bigger, the mirror becomes reality. The mirror is the only thing that speaks truth.
"Who am I?"
Who am I? What am I?
"Gross."
This reflection, it hurts.
This image is reality.
Is it really?
"What's not to love about you?"
All these flaws. They're everywhere. They're making me sick.
Exercise and exercise.
Skip meals.
Pick at yourself.
Hurt yourself.
"Who are you?"
"Is something wrong?"
"You're acting different."
"You don't look okay."
"I'm good."
Except for all these flaws.
I'm the mistake.
Make it end.
"You seem tired."
Exercise more
"You need to eat."
Starve for days.
"Who am I?"
The mirror's lie.
I feel weak. Fatigued.
My hair is falling out.
Dry skin, scars upon scars,
Dizziness.
What's happening?
Illness consumes, replaces the real you.
I'm stuck.
I'm falling.
I'm fading away.
"Help." I try to whisper, but it's too late.
"You're not sick enough. You're not thin. You're not dead yet."
The mirror lies.
I am sick.
I am thin.
I am dead.
All I wanted was to erase a flaw, but in the end,
It erased me.
