dhjkhlffjk

Do this for ME and I will seriously be happy!

(Constructive criticism is very much so welcome.)

I am hollow imperfection. Your apparently serene words of protest are ignorant and apathetic. They only prove that you have failed to apprehend that what I do does not wound me; it instead cures me. Perfects these imperfections.

****

I am seated in your office once again, confined in your supposedly soothing prison. I refuse to lay atop your lunatics couch, choosing instead a much stiffer chair that seems be a reflection of your hardened gaze. I don't belong here. In this office or this nuthouse. I'm not psychotic like the rest of these abnormalities; the only crime that has led me to this cage is my fatness.

Shameful, indubitable, disgusting fatness. Pinpointed in my pillowy thighs and rotundly, vomitous mess of a stomach. I haven't lost enough weight: I'm as revolting as ever, and am sure to have my nauseating weight increase even more with the ways in which they shove it down my throat. Food. Can't they see I'm repulsive enough? Have they somehow overlooked my incontestable flab?

You're talking now, and goggling at me with your bulging grey eyes. I can as good as see your mind formulating insults that properly describe me, know you hate me just as much as everyone does. As if as a confirmation to my thoughts, you pull out a tray of cookies and offer them to me; you're probably eager to see the fat girl scramble to devour them all. I refuse to give you the satisfaction and instead shake my head no.

I can vaguely remember a time when upon seeing a chocolate-chip cookie I thought not of jiggling thighs and the foul three hundred and eighty nine calories within, but instead of it's mouth-watering relish. Oh, how dreadful I was! So sickeningly fat!

Tuning out your monotonous questions and theories has been effortless enough so far, but one statement hits me hard and sends a violent shudder from my brain to my toes.

"You've gained weight, the doctors tell me. You're up to eighty pounds." You declare with gross pleasure, smiling a wide, yellowed grin. There's a piece of lettuce lodged between your front two teeth and seeing this sends a wave of inexplicably intense revulsion and hatred throughout my entire body. I want to wrench your vulture-like head from her lumpy body and snap each of those flawless manicured crimson nails in half. Excruciatingly vicious thoughts began to taint my mind and it was evident at that moment that every fat-ridden fiber of my being despised you with a passionate wrath.

Perhaps you interpreted the choleric blackness twisting my face, for your previously thrilled beaming has turned grim.

"Can I ask you something?" You query somberly, casting me a somewhat perplexed sideways glance.

I want to stand up and screech and strike you across the face. I want to experience the intoxicating gratification of seeing your face become the same bloodied color as your nails, just like the overwhelming satisfaction of losing another pound. But something or someone silently tells me not to. So I nod my head, scowling.

"Why do you think you do this? Why are you starving yourself?" You're nearly tearful.

At first I don't know what to say. Then immediately the answer seems quite clear, as if it had been there the whole time.

"I'm not starving myself... I'm perfecting my emptiness." Somehow I choke this out, and the feebleness of my voice petrifies me. And suddenly, everything is terrifying.

Your pensive face, the looming gray walls that confine me, the inky, approaching shadows: all frighten me into an unbearable state of mind. My breathing rapid and uneven and my feet wobbling beneath me, I shove myself off that straight-backed chair and burst from your trap. My feet carry me to my empty room of their own accord and I somehow find myself collapsing on my knees onto the frigid hospital floor and lifting my mattress up, searching desperately for the stolen bottle of pain-killers lurking beneath it. My hand closes around the bottle and I have never felt such a passionate relief, a reassurance that brings chilling goosebumps to my arms and a smirk to my chattering lips. Briskly and with feverish delight I pour a glass of water from the pitcher placed upon my bed-side table. If only takes me a minute of anxious struggle to unscrew the top off the pain-killers, and only another minute to down the entire content of the bottle with the aid of my water.

Instantly, I feel exhausted and keel over onto my bumpy mattress. Upon this crumpling, a series of memories begins to reel inside my thoughts.

Was this my life flashing before me eyes? How cliche.

I see mother, and she's not dead at all, but alternatively she's alive and just as enchanting as ever, offering me her hand. I am ecstatic.

I see my father and my baby brother chuckling and grinning, father wiping his glasses on his black polo shirt. I grow happier.

I see a skeletal body and I feel guilty when this is the image that makes me most euphoric.

Like ballet dancers twirling before a velvet curtain, the putrid smoke from his cigar drifted gracefully through the midnight sky. Shaking my head in disgusted protest, I opened my mouth to respond... only to inhale an eye-watering mouthful of smoke. He smirked, satisfied, and opened his mouth to speak, revealing two untidy lines of dirt permeated yellow teeth. "So. Is it settled?". This was no question; it was a straight fact, true despite my prayers for it not to be. I sighed. "How long do I have before... umm..." I stuttered, cold sweat trickling uncomfortably down my spine. The man chuckled. "Before we kill you?" I gulped nervously. My world was spinning out of control... How? How could this happen? And before I could torture my mind with regrets a second longer, I fell backwards unto the filthy concrete with a sickening thud.

So... Whatchya think? Comments? Questions Concerns? Good? Bad? I wanna hear some opinions!

Thanks!

I don't own number eight and nine, and was wondering where I could read them online for free. I've tried onemanga.com, but it wasn't there!

I made an account years ago, and I must've put the wrong birthdate.

Now, I can't log on because I don't have the right date. ):

I still remember my username and password. Is there any way to find out what date I put? Any help is good help!

What is Race to Witch Mountain about? I really don't know. And would you say it's worth watching? Thanks!

I just can't seem to find the Friends episode "The One After I Do" to watch online for free. It'd be a great help if you could post a link. This is in Series Eight, Episode One.

Thanks!

1.Not my baby! Just wondering.

2. Please, no insults.

Okay Jagoda. It is said HA-goda, not yagoda. It is macedonian for strawberry, and a traditional name there. I know a lot of you won't like it, but I'm just wondering.

Which of these names is your favorite for a girl?Sari Aurora Aqua Rori Danni Autumn Saige Sunshine

Dawn

Melody.

Nikki

In the song "The Reaper" by the Blue Oyster cult, there is a song lyric where they sing "40,000 men and women every day." Anybody know what they mean?

Ever seen the McDonalds "active", "healthy" commercials? I find it really funny how a place that serves huge burgers and other heart attack related foods advertises iteslf as healthy. (also unfair) Well just want to see everyones opinion.