tell me what i need to hear,

i want to feel something, something to set me free.

[i haven't been feeling alive lately, and living day to day strictly on 800 calories and listless laughter is killing me on the inside. i think i might require some assistance, but make sure this cure is fat free]

i don't know what to want, and that makes longing a lot harder.

[maybe i want to hurt like no other, just to remind me that i'm alive and that i'm in control even though i'm flying off the rails at breakneck speeds and seeing cities, stars and lives flash before my eyes]

but santa isn't a mind-reader and i might be getting coal in my stocking this year.

[because thinking about suicide is bad, padding down to the kitchen at fourinthefreaking morning to find a knife is bad, and running the silver blade over anxious flesh just for chills is probably bad as well]

maybe i could use it, roll around in it, because everything in black looks smaller, slimmer, beautiful.

[yes, that's what the magazines say and i'm beginning to think they know more than me about these things and everything else. i don't know anymore and doubting everything is making me stress-eat]

or is it beautiful?

[tell me it isn't. tell me that beauty is radiated from your soul and all that other crap. tell me that my legacy is counted by how many lives you touched, how many people you loved and not by how many you were on a weighing scale. tell me that i'm beautiful if i believe in myself. tell me that boys will alwaysalwaysalways pick personality over looks and if they don't, its their loss. tell me that confidence is the sexiest thing in a woman and keep telling me so i believe it]

it is.