Perfection?

"I do not know where this obsession with perfection came from 

Or why it chose me

Perhaps it came from parental precepts - like- 'a moment on the lips forever on the hips'

Or grandparental guidance, after all, 'we die for fashion'.

Perhaps it sprang from the stagnant brains of teenage girls, who, unable to bear their own demise determined to destroy me along with them.

After all 'no boy would ever love a fatty' 

Does it really matter from whence it came, though?

All I know is I am powerless to stop it, nor do I care to try anymore.

If I cannot be the smart one, let me be skinny.

If I cannot be pretty, at least make me thin.

I've heard it said that perfection is infectious and it spreads like plague.

Will anyone love me if I turn myself into skin and bones

or will they run from the mess I have become?

I do not know, but for my sake, if no one else's, I must try. 

I will be the closest thing to perfection that anyone has ever seen.

I will be skinny. 

I will be beautiful.

I will be perfect."

-s.v. (via. musings-of-an-anorexic)