They donโt understand. Never will. He lights a cigarette and draws back the flame the ash falls off of it. โNever will.โ He says to himself in the mirror. He runs his hands through his greasy green hair. He blows the smoke out of his lips and smiles back in the mirror โall okay.โ
He sighs feeling down his small frame, running his hand across his frail rib cage. The bones stick out under his thin skin like hard rocks. He hums. Looking in the mirror eating a small saltine cracker he admires the skeleton he has become.
If not his body what else? He was starving he felt comforted by the way his stomach was howling and growling at him. It made him feel... like skin. He felt validated every time he heard someone say โyou look like skin and bones.โ Thatโs the point he thought in his delusional mind
How do you know me? Was there blood in the sink a moment ago? Do you truly know me? Or the facade of me? They think they do funny, they know what I want them to see. They only know the face. Not the dark deep emotions running through my veins calling for more. Begging...once more