the miserable life of a miserable teenager

My mom went through it too, said it’s a control thing. I can’t control the fuck up my face is.

So, I starve myself. If I had the perfect body, you wouldn’t care, right?

Wouldn’t care about my ugly face, bad mood, hyper personality, about me.

Sure, it hurts some days, but usually it’s natural. Just not hungry.

All the wishes that I could eat less, granted.

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“It’ll never be enough.”

Oh. I get it now.

That’s the thing about irony though,

Always hits you when you’re,

not in the mood.