She felt ideal. She was everything she wanted to be. Everything everyone else wanted her to be... almost. The whole world raged on behind her, dashing through life in a haze of sex, drugs, and superficiality. But she wasn't. She didn't hide from the harsh reality by clouding herself with pills, she wanted to feel that pain. That sting. That grumble. The sting of her narrowly sliced open thighs, empty stomach, and even emptier soul. Her body was almost vibrating from the sheer hollow. She stood in front of the mirror, staring into her own reflected eyes. She knew from memory that they were a brown with the depth of Godiva dark chocolate. She looked for emotion in her eyes, her inner monologue droned on how they were supposed to sparkle like her best friend's did, that they shouldn't be flat. She silenced the tiny voice's echo. Giving attention to more detail, she had lost more color as the days had passed and passed, so much so that her lips practically blended into her overall skin tone. They were so bland that she couldn't resist any longer. She raced through her pockets, her fingers gripping at anything solid until her calloused fingers met with the blank cold of the tube. Pulling it out rapidly, she kept a still hand. Tempted to close her eyes at the forgotten sensation against her bottom lip, she expertly swerved her fingers slightly to apply it correctly. Finally satisfied with the thing she felt would make her beautiful, she gently rubbed her lips together, leaving them lingering for just a moment. She basked in the false image of her with no mouth, it reminded her of all the times she felt like she couldn't ever speak. But when her lips finally released, she stared again, but this time at the staining scarlet lipstick shaping them and brightening her whole face. And as she continued to stare, she felt that the lipstick alone was not enough to make her beautiful. She racked her brain for something more that she could do. For, this girl didn't only want to be beautiful, it was her only craving. She had tried oh so many different approaches to her dilemma. At this point it had been one week, two days since she had last eaten. She didn't feel regret from her decision, she didn't feel remorse. In fact, everyday that she hadn't eaten, she would wake up the next morning feeling radiant. and she would look in the mirror, much like she was doing now, and say to herself how lovely she looked and how much more she would soon look after another day of quietly pretending to eat and avoiding the concern of those around her. But that moment was much different than all the others she had spent looking into the mirror. This time, she only saw what was wrong. Dull hair, barely any curves to speak of, and plainness that pulled at her heartstrings. Inhaling deeply, she could feel her night closing to an end, though not because she was going to be returning home. Tomorrow wouldn't be the last night she awoke in a stranger's house from the night before, whether or not she was bedded with someone else, so she wasn't alarmed. With her fingers trembling, she used what energy she could to grasp the lipstick tube once again, relishing in the bare metal soothing her skin. The cap pulled off with ease and the spring twisted and revealed the crimson stick again like brand new. Forcing her arm up to the mirror, she felt her arm pain at her lack of strength, but worked neatly non the less. Slowly she tainted the reflective glass with her makeup, leaving her mark in the house with a simple 'C-A-S-S-A-N-D-R-A' in her intricate calligraphy. Satisfaction spread through her as she gripped the lipstick in her hand tighter and felt her eyes droop. By the time her body collided with the tile floor, she had already lost consciousness from hunger and would surely not feel the pain till the next morning.