Life Is What You Make It

I will always and forever be fascinated by customer’s weird gender hangups. 

Bulimia isn’t a pretty girl, hanging over the toilet bowl with her hair nicely tied back. It is a swollen face with vomit dripping down the chin and permanent nosebleeds.

Anorexia isn't  a skinny, shy girl that refuses some Food. It is disguisting hair appearing on deadly cold skin. It is the extreme pain from an empty stomach.

Depression isn’t a model with some smudged Mascara, which sadly looks out a window at a sunset. It is lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, because there is no motivation left to close the eyes. It is bitter lonliness.

Selfharm isn’t a beautiful boy, kissing your scars and telling you, you are beautiful anyway. It is the pain when the water in the shower hits the wounds. It is scars that will never disappear.

Me, three seconds after my brain automatically counts how much I am eating: