she looks at me through the mirror.
"what happened to us?"
i dont know.
when i see her i see a completely different girl.
one that was happy with loving parents.
she played outside with her friends and went on bike rides at noon.
with a grandpa that took her to get candy and stayed up late to make chocolate pudding with her.
"i'm so sorry"
she should have never had to go through this.
the way his dirty hands touched her body in places no man should without consent.
i told him to stop.
and when she left she cried until her throat closed up to the point where breaths could no longer escape.
dad came home drunk one day.
he skipped work, went to the bar.
mom wouldn't stop yelling.
now there isn't a day where she wouldn't cover her ears.
he sleeps on the couch at least once a week.
nicotine was an escape.
the cool menthol running through her nose.
the way hit it her lungs just right.
mom and dad found out.
apparently she was a dissapointment.
she had all As. she was valedictorian. still not proud of her.
i guess it wasn't enough.
she had no friends anymore.
a cold hearted slutty bitch some would say.
no one to rely on.
she looked in the mirror.
maybe if she pinched hard enough the fat would go away.
she wasn't what the boys wanted.
she wasn't pretty.
she was disgusting.
she was fat. she was a hoe. her waist wasn't skinny. she had stretch marks. she had no tits, no ass.
staying up late. under eye bags. bloody cuts turned into scars.
she felt numb but at least with self harm she felt something.
one meal a day, she told her self.
eating more than that she felt guilty.
the scale went down, and down, and down.
but somehow she still didn't feel happy.
why didn't she feel happy?
she was skinny. the boys wanted her.
why is it so hard to be happy?
