Perfection
... Her lips full, her face, flawlessly defined with its most intriguing feature being her rich brown eyes that seemed to come alive when she spoke. These eyes were now lifeless and strange. No one would ever suspect that a girl so well-endowed with physical beauty, so kind and selfless, would have a toxic disease eating away viciously at her skin from the inside out. Now here Francis was, beyond reasonable comprehension of why she had ever started Francis simply knew the result of her obsession that brought an ironically sick pleasure, an undescribable high allowing her to surrender to preposterous expectations of attaining a perfection that only the superficial media fabrications are capable of. The cool comfort of the floor transformed into an unbearable frost-like feeling, convulsing her to shake as the hairs on her arms doubled in size and stood on end. Knock, Knock, Knock......a faint and distant voice complemented by the vibrations of the knocking in her chest were momentarily foreign. Now her high slowly transpires and her depression once again consumes her as she reluctantly returns to a reality she refuses to accept. The voice, its words as well as the agitating knocking are now perfectly clear. “What are you doing in there? You’ve been in there for a while now. Staring at your own reflection no doubt. We get it you’re gorgeous, you couldn’t be more perfect”. A wall of denial and lies separates this alien form her blindfolded family. Confident, proud but more importantly ecstatic she is publically, however, behind closed...