no

I want to run
I want to get away
Clear my heart and mind. I want to pump so much adrenaline into my system till I go blank.
I want the air in my lungs to rush out so quick that I close my eyes solely because I wish to see the last few people I love behind my lids before my heart stops pumping.
I want to be on the edge.
I want all the bad things to go away, wash my brain in cleansing waters.

I want the definition of muscles obvious and gentle on me, so that I love myself. Arms that hang artistically so much so that every movement is literally a work of art. I want hair that fall on my shoulders the way the drizzle follows the direction of the howling wind. Hair that bounces off my scalp the way a butterfly would bounce off a leaf to take flight. And I couldn’t care less what color it will be. I want smooth curves on my body that look the same way a boy would see the curves of his first new car. I want eyes that hold oceans, that never lose their sparkle and every gaze is a new wave of emotion. Lashes as thick as the forest nearest to your house. I want radiant skin, soft like the sand between your toes but smooth like silk. I want it not to bare a single mark, blemish or scar, untouched, unlike any thing on this land. I want a nose as simple and smooth as a slide in a children’s playground. But also as small and cute as a tulip flower. Cheeks that always blush and give off life all the time, never fading to a pale. Cheekbones as profound and grand as the edge of a pyramid. Lips that are as pink as a baby’s nail and full with playful curves. I want a jaw so edgy and sharp that a shadow is constantly hiding under its shelter.

I am disgusted. Disgusted at how selfish I am, starting every sentence with ‘I’. Disgusted at the way I perceive myself, the way I find myself repulsive. Disgusted at how much I chase after perfection without even learning how to tie my shoelaces. Disgusted at how hypocritical I am, telling the people around me not to do the things that I silently do every single day. The way I throw words and advices to easily when not necessary.

Yet

I am exhausted. Too tired to give anything else my energy or time. Why should I when I barely have any left for myself? red stained eyes and lifeless pupils, lids that hang of dissatisfaction. The flesh that encase my eyes has become to dead and sunken, the way a rose withers except not beautiful ——————-

no, I don’t want all this

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