i'm not meaning to be chiché

'innocent'

The sun shines in my eyes, my pink curtains obscuring the room, pink settles onto the carpet, the walls, my bed, my face. Sensations of hunger dribbles through my brain.
Another 24 hours.
What a joy.
Throwing on the pajamas next to my bed, (yes, I don't sleep with them on) I turn around, looking into the long mirror propped against my wall.
My envy.
This hasn't started recently. It isn't because some guy called me fat. It isn't out of nowhere, and no, i'm not suicidal(?).
It was in 3rd grade, when I was at the point where saying "crap" would basically land you in prison.
I guess I wasn't really skinny then, but I was not big in the slightest.
Oh.
How I wish the pain would be gone.
Oh.