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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #2044497
A story about anorexia, bulimia, and death in the point of view of a friend.
I remember you. You were so beautiful once, inside and out. People had been jealous of you, but you hadn't known. You had loved yourself once. You weren't always worried about what they said. Their words just got harsher and harsher as the years went on. Your hair was filled with luster once and your eyes sparkled. Now it lays limp and your blue eyes are now hidden behind decaying eyelids. You were happy once.
I remember it started off small as everything does. You stopped eating lunch at school. Then it was at your house. You didn't eat breakfast and when you ate dinner you went straight to the bathroom. I could hear your gagging. How did your parents not know?
When you wore tight clothes I could see the slender curves of your ribs. They curved like a sad smile. You were dying. I knew you were. Now that you're dead, I feel wrong for not telling anyone, for not helping you.
I miss you.

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