I'm hungry. I strive to be like them. Skinny. Pretty. I need to be. Don't eat. Don't eat. If you eat, empty your feelings of hatred and fill yourself with perfection. I never look in mirrors. The imperfect image I created long ago. I'm hungry, but soon I'll be pretty. Perfect. I'll still be hungry.
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Finally Broken
Historia CortaThe noises used to make me feel happy. Happiness is nostalgic to me, and now the noises sound like screams, bombs being set off right next to me. Cries of pain, sobbing. Then, silence. The silence hurts the most, and then I feel numb. I feel no pain...
