Bad Habits

I always held my breath when I walked past cigarette smoke because I was taught at a young age how bad habits can destroy a person. So maybe that explains why I always held my breath when you kissed me, I just didn’t want to be hurt. The thing is, you destroyed me anyways. I lit up all the sweet letters you wrote me along with my first cigarette yesterday. At least now I know you ¬†won’t be the bad habit that kills me.




I was always taught that lies were terrible, “The truth will set you free” was a famous quote my mother loved to recite. Yet honesty has never felt like freedom to me, it is a birdcage holding me captive, the truth has become a sword through my spine. It’s painful. I lie to others and myself because it is what’s best for me. If I pretend that I’m confident, then maybe I’ll be able to look at myself in the mirror again, and stop having to wash my makeup and tear stained pillow cases. If I pretend to be happy, then maybe I might be someday. If I tell myself I don’t love you anymore, then maybe one day I really won’t. I’m sorry mother, but lying has become my liberation.



Maybe I should skip breakfast, and lunch, and dinner today…I mean I’m hungry of course, but I can’t see my rib cage as well anymore. I used to think I looked great, I was confident, not too confident but I wasn’t turning my face away from the mirror, I looked myself straight in the eye and I was okay with what stared back at me….until my best friend who I thought was perfect started complaining that she was fat. Then suddenly everything stopped, that’s fat? That’s what fat looks like? Oh god if that’s what fat looks like I’m in trouble. I started to feel myself shrink away, feeling like I wasn’t worthy enough to occupy the space around me. Like the size of my waist was more important than my SAT scores, I became obsessed with society’s idea of perfection. I looked people in the eye to see if they looked at me with as much disappointment as I did looking at myself in the mirror everyday. I could no longer hold eye contact with myself for more than five seconds without turning away and having the grumbling of my stomach drown out the thoughts in my head that told me that skinny is better. That no one would ever love me unless my collarbones stuck out like knives, sharpened to protect myself from those who lie and tell me I look great that day. What do you mean I look great? I ate a banana and if I don’t go to the bathroom and throw it up I think I might die, I look great? My eyes are dead from the countless nights spent staring at other girls on a screen telling me what I needed to look like. And I know if I keep going like this I’ll drive myself to ruin, but dead girls are skinnier.


6 word stories

Your love was a fucking lie

I am not what you think

I wish I wasn’t like this

It is so inconvenient to care

My race is not my character

Looks as shitty as my personality

When will I see you again?

Everything good always gets messed up

Time keeps ticking, I stand still

The world does not pity anyone

You didn’t deserve to take it.