Perfectionism.

I strove for perfection
but the only thing I could find was a
defection in my own reflection.

My nose was too prominent,
my face was too round,
I was an ugly girl
and I was letting everyone down.

I wanted to get rid of this belly fat
I was on the verge of never coming back.
Playing on the edge of a broken knife
I starved my self out of spite.

The weightlessness fed me more
The feeling of air was one that I could adore.
I loved the fact everyone saw me now
And so many asked how.

Their eyes quickly turned to fear
as the numbers ticked down but I didn't care.
I was a fourteen, then a ten, down to a three.
I felt I was finally healthy.

I caught the disease
It became hard to breath.
All I wanted to be
Was perfect little me.