“Why? You want to
know why?
Step into a tanning booth and fry
yourself for two or three days. After your skin bubbles and peels
off, roll in coarse salt, then pull on long underwear woven from
spun glass and razor wire. Over that goes your regular clothes,
as long as they are tight.
Smoke gunpowder and go to school to
jump through hoops, sit up and beg, and roll over on command.
Listen to the whispers that curl into your head at night, calling
you u g l y and fat and
s t u p i d and b 1 t c h
and w h 0 r e and worst of
all "a
disappointment.” Puke and starve and cut and drink
because you don’t want to feel any of this. Puke and starve
and cut and drink because you need an anesthetic and it works.
For a while. But then the anesthetic turns into poison and by
then it’s too late because you are main-lining it now,
straight into your soul. It is rotting you and you can’t
stop.
Look in a mirror and find a ghost.
Hear every heartbeat scream that everysinglething is wrong with
you.
“Why?” is the wrong question.
Ask “Why not?”
wintergirls
