Conflicts

Hunger pangs will my body to roll over and die as the shrunken, achingly empty stomach cavity thrashes; demanding a source of impossible sustenance.
Be it the narcissism willing me to be gorgeously, gratifyingly, grossly thin.
Or the anti-social aspect dictating a deviation from all social normality.
Schizoid and paranoid voices scream potential future fat-fuckedness.

Anorexic again.

I never even wished for this.

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