I want to be a pretty pretty skinny girl

Dear friend,

I can't, I can't, I can't

express the anger and sorrow that I feel, 

it's still hard to believe the words you told me in my bedroom

that sounded so simple and innocent, 

yet so pure at that moment,

"I want to be a pretty, pretty, skinny girl"

you said.

I failed to fathom your true meaning honestly,

I just simply nodded and left your words floating in the air.

I can't, I can't, I can't

comprehend how much you committed yourself to a screen ,

your daily routine was instagram, facebook, twitter in repeat.

comparing yourself to others was such an amusing thing, 

"I want to be a size 2 like other pretty skinny girls"

you said.

ever since that day, numbers became a part of  you,

all day everyday counting likes, followers, retweets in repeat.

soon after,

you can't help to count the calories that lies in your food.

I can't, I can't, I can't 

imagine how you barely fight through every night,

when your insecurities creep into your mind 

punching and bruising your self esteem to the concrete,

the reflection you saw in the mirror was a freak,

how much you worth was based on

how wide was your thigh gap

how flat was your tummy

and how visible your collarbone was to be seen.

I cannot comprehend how food was your greatest enemy

but at the same time a dear friend,

you binged to bring peace to the war in your head,

it comforted and filled the empty void of darkness in your chest.

I can't, I can't, I can't 

understand how guilt latched on to you like a pest,

deluding yourself into thinking that you are in control

when you stick your finger down your throat

to purge and flush all your regrets away.

for every compliment you hear,

the harder you would force your insides out until

there is nothing left but blood, 

you blacked out and woke up in a hospital bed.

yet again and again, you kept doing it anyway.

you worn your heart out way too many times,

leaving it slowly to die. 

I can't, I can't, I can't

admit to the fact that you're gone,

now I am looking down at your pale face,

while you lie in this grim casket,

the loud and piercing sound of your parents 

wailing and screaming for your name,

"God, I would do anything to have her in my arms again!"

they said.

the realization that you're gone is non-existent in their heads, 

as they remember your birth just like yesterday.

and just before the lights burnt out in your eyes,

you said

"I no longer want to be a pretty, pretty, skinny girl anymore."