Becca

The real me lies in secret, hidden deep inside, it's eating me alive.

The masks I've worn are pushing the real me deeper and deeper into the darkness, why does it have to be like this?

Hiding who I am for fear of rejection, hiding who I am for fear of unacceptance.

The real me desires to be different, including societies view of perfection.

Seeing societies "golden gal" pushes me to change, pound from pound, size 12 to 0.

Each flaw causes a string of dark thoughts, eventually the thoughts become realities.

Love turns to betrayal, smiles everywhere turns to crying in secret, I'm okay turns to I'm fine.

A pencil sharpener goes from school supplies to a place to get razors, Razors go from shaving to scar makers, pills turn from pain relievers to life relievers.

Everyday is a battle and I've lost more than I've won. 

This is the real me. The end.