I’m a torn up twisted reflection of those Barbie Doll wannabe girls who puff their hair and spread paint on their lips to appeal to those shallow boys with the six pack abs and too gelled up hair dos. I don’t conform into those molds where we’re all decked out with blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. I’m one of those too pale girls who load their hair with hair dye and spray in glitter. Wearing pretty black corsets that pull my tummy in so tight. Giving me that perfect China Doll appearance I’d kill for. While those Barbie Doll girls drink their diet cokes with a lemon twist I’m in the corner getting drunk off Absinthe. Flying with the green fairies to worlds only I know of. Hearing the secrets those Barbie Doll Girls are thinking.

”I don’t eat.”

“I snort coke to keep myself thin.”

“I stuff my bra so I can look prettier.”

“I cut myself to hold in each tear.”

“My boyfriend beats me, but I let him because he’s popular.”

“My father molests me every night, but I can’t tell anyone because they’d look at me weird.”

Those poor lost little Barbie Doll Girls. They smile those pretty perfect smiles but all they want to do is cry. What’s so good about being one of the envied, floating above us, when we all know that what goes up has got to fall? Stand up for yourself. Stop being what you hate. Those twisted torn up images of those Barbie Dolls. Walk among the beautifully flawed China Dolls. We see the world as a place filled with those terrors that haunt you at night, but the moonlight and a bit of glitter can light the way. Crucify your Barbie Dolls and place your China Dolls on a pedestal.