It's hard to fathom that she can possess so much, yet, come equipped with one of the smallest frames. Her talent and potential radiates light in the darkest of moments, but she contains no light within. Her slender frame is complete with I.V. drips and Kleenex. Her mind is matched with one goal and so her body suffers. As her eyes envisage Balenciaga draping her non-existent curves, her brain overloads and her heart continues to slow. How one goal can wreck so much and yet feel so beautiful is a twisted art miracle. As the Kleenex within soaks up the tears she's never able to shed, she still cannot hide from the one person who will always know. The one person who will always care, however, the one person who cannot allow herself to care enough.
Yet, this person cannot stop her without stopping herself and so sharing the same mind will always be the downfall. She cannot hide from herself. She's the only one who truly knows. She knows how awful the combination of wood pulp, fiber crop, papyrus and chemicals taste against the tenderness of her tongue. She knows how much she yerns to be "sample size."
She's the only one who knows.
She's the only one who can make a difference.
Yet, she pushes herself to exude false light through the impeccable skill of "pretending." It's her job to shelter her face and body from the expression of emotion. It's her job to act. It's her job to pretend.
Endless makeup coverage, endless wardrobe and a falsified image.
She's the only one and so all hope is lost.