when i am hurting, when it
is a struggle to breathe, i
turn to Monster. i step on
the scale, deny myself nourishment,
listen to maria mena and fiona
apple. Monster always coos to me, whispers
sweet nothings in my ear, promises
that i will love myself by the time
It is through. It indulges my every
cynical desire. the moment things get
heavy or emotional or difficult or
personal, i turn to old habits that i
would be better off without.
i know i am doing it. i see Monster the moment
It arrives. and yet, i cannot
push It away. why? why?
i don't want to be this,
don't want to be this girl.