Mind Suicide

She kisses me in secrecy. When no ones there. Hope grabs my hair and forces her tongue down my throat. I don’t stop her and I don’t fight. Instead I lift her shirt and feel her ribs, the feeling oh so familiar.

There’s a competition.

Hope’s nine-five pounds. I’ve lost five pounds. I’ve won. Hope is lagging behind me, held down by her fat.

I’m sick. What’s wrong with me?

I dropped a cup. It shattered on the floor, the shards dispersing all over the kitchen tile.

Mom yelled and yelled and yelled and yelled at me. I didn’t listen. I stared at the bathroom. I yearned to weigh myself.

I need to beat Hope. Hope was my competitor. Hope was going to lose.