gokai_no_namida's Journal

31 March 1982

Standing in front of the stereo, I tilt my head to the ceiling, eyes closed, swaying to the beat, arms raised and weaving patterns of unintelligible words. Opened eyes, and my vision clicks to my left wrist. It fades before me, growing bonier, making me want to melt away - to vanish and embrace becoming nothing.

I crave it. I want to waste away. This body needs to break, to drip and slide off in sheets... because it doesn't feel like mine. I want to see what I look like. That creature in the glass is too familiar. Its curves and rolls seem to beckon, mutilating the siren's song. All I see is its quivering, and all I feel is revolted...

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© ME 2002