D/c 2:Poem-thing by me.
Short oneshot with no real plot. She knows what she's doing to herself, but like in our lives, we all just want to fit in...
Warnings:Mentioned eating disorder, hinted cutting, depression. Kinda emo-y.
Enjoy.
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Dizzy Pressure grows and no one knows. Skin's not pretty, she's not witty. Blades taunt, Memories haunt. Burning out, Can't cry.
Eyes burn, stomach churns.
Depression and oppression,
Obsession and regression.
Frizzy hair, plain eyes stare.
Thick fat, chest is flat,
No one knows she thinks like that.
Monotonous acts, Robotic facts.
Furture's blind, past is behind.
Living days one at a time.
Spun out, Won't try.
On a roll, Losing control,
Breaking your soul,
Sellout.
"Coming, give me a second!" She stood and her whole world tilted. Her head spun for a second and stars threatened to take over her sight, but she fought them away. Wand out, she glanced in the mirror at her skeletal reflection and magiked make-up on her pale, freckled skin. Her clothes hung off her but the slight roll on her belly screamed at her, demanding she look just like the rest of the fashion zombies. So, she zapped her comfortable, baggy clothes into skin tight, revealing cloth that only made her see her stomach more. She shoved her wand in her pocket after hiding her scars and bronzing her pasty flesh.
Putting on her happy grin, she bounded out of the room. Coming around the corner, she met the blond-haired girls in their tight uniforms, who all held looks of exasperation on their perfect faces.
"It took you long enough." One of them whined, rolling her bright blue eyes. Hermione put on a sorry expression. Her voice pitching an octave higher, she squealed back to her friends, "Thanks for waiting girls."
--
Yeah. Everyone sells out in some way. Fashion, language, beliefs, looks, even thought. Deal with it, accept it. Get over it and be who you want to be, be happy and positive. You don't have to dwell in it, just know that it's there.
Till next time,
-JX
