I stand here waiting. To disappear or sing.

No matter where I am, I am always loving you.

Under the pink Harlequin sunglasses strawberry dangling charms, and sugar-frosted eyeshadow she was really almost beautiful.

Welcome Beauty, banish fear.

But be careful; sand is already broken but glass breaks. The shoes are for dancing, not running away.

Morning. Strawberry sky dusted with white winter powder sugar sun. And nobody to munch on it with

I will not eat cakes or cookies or food. I will be thin, thin, pure. I will be pure and empty. Weight dropping off. Ninety-nine... ninety-five... ninety-two... ninety. Just one more to eighty-nine. Where does it go? Where in the universe does it go?