Thinner than a hair

This is the first

I remember the night she told me that she wanted to be thinner than a hair. She said it in such a lovely voice that I didn't notice what a horrific statement it was at the time. Everything she said was so soft and delicate that sometimes you didn't really hear the words she spoke completely.

Her edges were sharp yet smooth to touch. Every curve of ever inch of her being was so pretty but she wasn't beautiful. She wasn't a statement or her own unknown universe. She didn't forcefully drop jaws or twist heads in her direction. She was just a girl. Just a simple pretty and normal girl, or so I'd thought at the beginning. But in the end she ended up as one big malfunction. That sweet head of hers was filled with disease and her lovely little mouth just spat out lies. Maybe if she'd known that someone loved her, that I loved her, she wouldn't have been plagued with ideas that she was so indecent. Maybe she wouldn't have starved herself to become a sort of perfection that does not exist.

If she dies, they should throw me in jail for the rest of my life because I killed her. If I'd really opened my eyes I would have seen the horror film her life had become. I would have noticed the way her wrists turned into wishbones and how her cheeks became so hollow. But somehow, I failed to see any of these various things. If I'd have really understood the things she said I could have stopped her from letting anorexia nervosa take over her body. I should've noticed she was sick, I should've noticed.

But I didn't. I didn't say do anything at all. And now she's nothing but a bundle of twig-like bones laying in a hospital bed.

All because of me.
♠ ♠ ♠
It seems I'm not able to write anything over five hundred words, but I still like to hear what you think.