When I was 4,
my mommy gave me a beautiful porcelain dolly with pale,
emotionless face,
rosy cheeks and skinny legs.
She told me that I was as beautiful as my dolly but her face didn't make me believe it.

When I was 7,
I wanted to be more like my dolly,
so I tried to stop smiling but it was really hard.

When I was 10,
my mum called me fat,
so I rushed into my room crying and my dolly fell and broke her left arm,
I glued the parts together but there were still cracks
so I got a marker and drew line on my wrist too.

When I was 13,
I spent way too much time in my room figuring out how to be more like my dolly, even though I hated her for being more beautiful than me.

When I was 16,
I stopped eating
because dollies don't eat.

Now,
the lines on my wrist are real,
and I'm beginning to crack.
My face is tired,but yet pale
I'm not smiling and I'm barely eating.

Look mommy,I look like my dolly now.