She

She wants me. I can feel her clawing at me, wrapping her fingernails around my brain. She was close, once, but that was a long time ago. I can't hold her; my body isn't good enough, strong enough to house her. Some people have things like will, and self-control... I do not. I know she's sick, a disease... but the seeds have already been planted in my mind. Once you've seen her, you'll always see her.

It feels like a war is going on around me. So much violence, and turmoil... but it's all inside me. A war, between her and my body. Her and me. She wants this body to work for her, to be the vision of beauty she embodies. But it's too ugly, too toxic, and she has much work to do. She doesn't often fail, and has faith in herself. She will fight this to the death. One of us has to go.

I see her sometimes in mirrors. That thin, ravaged beauty with crazed eyes. She is in control. She holds herself as if she has the world in the palm of her hand. But then she disappears, and it's just me again. Fat, dirty, contaminated me. She's not gone... oh, no. Her voice echoes in my head, as clear as a bell. Sharp, cutting words. Criticism deep enough to make me bleed. She is astounded by my failures, disgusted by my inability to fulfill her wishes.

She gets angry. For every rule that is broken, a punishment ensues. I push my body harder, longer, faster despite its cries. I hurt myself. But I know that if I don't, she will. And physical pain is something I'd endure a thousand times over, if it meant I could be free of her. She takes no pity on me. The things she whispers in my ear, filling my stomach with acid, never end. No matter how good I am, I never hear words of praise.

She's exhausted me. I know that one day, she'll win. I will disappear completely, and only she will remain.