I'm done. A firework exploded in my head and it's pressing all the blown up brains against my skull. I lay there for a moment. Just a moment to catch my breath, wipe my mouth. I have class soon and that means it's almost time to be a star in my own Broadway play of a life. I fucking hate Broadway..

And now I'm up again, lights on my face almostalmostalmost hot. Broadwayactress lights. I'm nearly not cold again. For a moment. Smiling. Not smiling. Notnotnot. I cant smile at my own reflection (fatgirlwhore). I'm not here, not here in this fucking bathroom on the second floor. Not awake. I'm dreaming and if I close my eyes I can smell unicorns and fairies and fucking happiness. Bad idea. I'm going to pass out if I close my eyes. Passpasspassing out means hospitals and breathing tubes showing everybody how not strong I am.

I'm fog. I'm mist. I'm lovely and light and almost a feather. My brain is lying. My brain is full of cake and hotdogs and too much onion and mustard. Gingerbread girls, skinnier than I'll ever be. I chewed them all up and purged them all out. Bloodbloodblood. My own blood was their friend where it isn't mine. I cut and my blood runs out of me as fastfastfastdrippingaway as it can. Even my own blood hates being part of me. My own blood clung to the fucking Gingerbread girls and wouldn't leave my thoughts. Bloodandgingerbread.

MirrorME tells me I'm fat. MirrorME shows me my thighs are Everest. My arms are two Great Walls. Tiny people travel across me, taking pictures to show their family and friends back home. ComelookatthefatfatFATbitch.

My shirt is gone and I look. My body is covered in redbloodred string and held together with thumbtacks like a fucking map. All of the strings are places I want to see. Asia, all of it. Africa, where the skinny children on all the posters live. New Zealand, Malaysia. China. China where I'll but my own little porcelainChinadoll. Red strings for places I've never been and never will. Replace the tripsvacations with little trips of my own. Trips where knives are harbored stewardesses and broken sharpener blades are First Class.