The girl in the bathroom

There’s a dead girl in my bathroom.

They said beauty is pain. When I was little I didn’t even think about what was beautiful or not. I always refused to wear what my mom chose for me because in my mind it didn’t fit, it probably did, but I was just a little girl trying to explore the world, and who cared if the only important thing at that time was going to the park and play with my friends.

Then adolescence knocked on my door and I began to understand why they said that beauty is pain. For many hours I tried to look decently good, but something in the mirror always looked wrong. Nothing convinced me, nothing looked good enough on me. Beauty is pain not only physical but also emotional.

There is a dead girl in the bathroom. I didn’t kill her, but I wouldn’t say she did it either.

For long hours I spent looking for what looked bad about me. And I discovered it. I had to do something, you always have to make sacrifices to achieve what you want. As many said, beauty is pain. Now I understood it. My stomach hurt, I got dizzy a lot, my hair fell out slowly, I felt bad and it hurt, sometimes I didn’t even know it hurt, but it still hurt. But beauty is pain.

I could change my body but there is always something that will continue to look bad in the mirror, it was never enough.

There is a dead girl in the bathroom and sometimes she tells me that she is hungry but she contradicts herself and repeatedly repeats that she is not hungry, that she will only drink coffee or eat ice because, in reality, she is not hungry and just wants to snack on something.

There is a dead girl in my bathroom and sometimes I caress her hair and cry because now I don’t know what to do with the dead girl in the bathroom who spends hours wondering why she is not like the others if she also stops eating and counts calories compulsively. she also weighs herself to see if anything has changed after taking laxatives and vomiting, and she wonders and asks me why she will never be able to be like the others.