What do you see?

I'm going out for the evening. I'm getting ready, prancing around to the Rent soundtrack in my underwear and I look great, so I quickly go and check myself out in the full-length mirror (because bitch looks fucking fine) but it's not the same.

There's fat, there are wobbles, my eating disorder fills my brain again and I feel hideous. My curves are gone to make way for my corpulent roles that cover my body. My body is gone, I'm gone, Candy is back.

Knowing I need to shake it off, I give my landlady a tongue-in-cheek flash and head up to my room, where nothing's changed except my appearance. There are the bulges, the lumps, the revolting roles. My clothes don't fit, my skin ripples, and Candy mocks me from afar.

She worms her way into my head. Instead of bubbling with confidence, I'm now sat on the floor, legs wrapped around me, listening to Will I, from the same soundtrack, on repeat. The song I listened to over and over after I was raped. When my body was no longer mine.

She doesn't see what I see, but I miss her every day.

xXx