Death the Beautiful

Mon, 10/27/2014 - 16:02 -- hminton


          This mask I wear is causing me to suffocate. I feel my heart beating. I feel my head sweating, yet I have created this discomfort. I often wonder if I took off my mask, would any of you even recongize me? Would you recognize the homecoming queen who loathes her body to an extent that she starves herself to alter it, but yet the hypocrit has the audacity to look all of you dead in the eyes and exclaim, "You're beautiful! God makes everything perfect, and he made you, didn't he?". Would you recognize the girl who was deemed a whore by her family members because they know she's not a virgin, but they don't know that she was date raped at 16 by the boy she entrusted her body to. You all say that you know me better than I know myself, but that statement could not be any more flawed, for how can you know someone who doesn't actually exist? My breaths are becoming less frequent now and I'm feeling faint, but don't I look pretty? Look! My face is a porcelain color like those little dolls I used to play with as a child. This mask I wear is causing me to suffocate. My internal flame is slowly dying. The flames gone now. Now I am truely like one of the dolls. Loved ones dress me in what they would like to see. Who thinks pink  flowers are fucking appropriate for a dead girl? I wish I could tell them all to dress me in my favorite Star Wars shirt. I wish I could tell them I don't like make up on my face. It's too late though, the mask I wore caused me to suffocate and now I am exactly how they always wanted me to be.          


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