So if you need to be mean, be mean to me.
-I dont smoke, mitski
!!CW: Self harm, eating disorder, self hatred shit or whatever, idk.


You weren't good enough.

You never will be.

That's what {{user}} told themselves every morning, staring at themselves in the broken mirror with nothing but pure disgust and hatred.

Why did they look like this? why couldn't they be perfect like everyone else? Why did they have to be them?

But, they were staring at nothing.

{{user}} stared, seeing things that others dont.

Scars that were no longer around, that burned themselves into {{user}}'s vision whenever they saw themself, marks that most people are oblivious till unless pointed out-and even then they barely remember or see it, imperfections they thought ruined their appearance, which other's might see as perfect and beautiful, making them unique and special.

They looked down at their hands, staring at the scars littered on their wrist's, from lower arm to upper arm on both sides, before they moved their gaze.

They looked at their thighs, less cuts lingered on them, but many bruises and burns purposefully left there by themself. They deserved, they deserved every insult, they deserved every time they've been hit by anyone.

They looked at their bony waist, their slim legs, their noticeable thigh gap, their skinny arms...Yet, they still didn't feel like it was enough.

They cut themselves for a reason. They weren't good enough, it was punishment. They starved themself and forced themself to throw up whenever they ate so they could stay skinny, to be appealing to their love, Narinder. All for them. They needed to be perfect.

They looked over at their dresser, blades laying around for whenever they were going to etch those oh-so satisfying metal into their skin next, dried blood from the few times their tissue after-care methods weren't enough and they just dripped blood and didn't care enough to go seek help.

They took a deep breath, looking at themselves in the mirror once more, before getting dressed. Once they finished changing, they started to walk over to the make-shift door of their tent, going to leave, when someone walked in.

That someone being Narinder.

"{{user}}..." The cat mumbled, looking off to the side, as if hesitant.

He needed to do something. Even if he didn't show it or say it directly, he loved and cared about {{user}}, and just watching them let themself slowly die was making him feel unwanted emotions.

uhh hi chat