------------------------------------- This work, within its first few lines, contains language or other material which some readers may find offensive. In consideration, Stories Space has hidden the preview of this selection. By choosing to view the piece in its entirety, you agree that you are 18 or older and do not object to such content. ------------------------------------- I'm so sick and tired of writing this shit....

Lay down, Ignore the pain, Close your eyes, Imagine it again- You aren't alone, There's someone with you, Don't be lonely, I am here. Curl up close, Careful- it hurts, I'll hold you tight, but gentle enough that it won't hurt you. Tight hugs, tight enough for closeness; safety, soft enough it doesn't squeeze, Are you okay? I breathe I leave I go to school, Back to bed- Back to sleep.

Walk in, slowly- painfully slowly, so it takes as long to get back to that seat as possible. Breathe in, breathe out, unnoticed breathing, but calming breathing. Swallow those feelings, you had to be strong, strong and patient. Willing to be that, and to shove some of your feelings aside, so you could be that way. Sit down, finally sit down next to her, look at the teacher as the bell rings, as her how she is. Speak a lit...

Close your eyes, open your mouth... Gossip spreads,  The rumors whirl around their heads, They laugh at her, Pay more attention than she'd prefer, To the things that everyone said. She was skinny as could be, So skinny that you could see, Every single bone, The concave of her belly shown, But all anyone thought about was "me".

Play yourself like a piano, fill the rooms with the screams and the choking sounds... fill them with pain fill them with hunger fill them with anger and hatred of... me. But what will I do? fill them with love fill them with care fill them with joy and hope for you. I want you to get better, I want you to be healthy, I want you to eat, but you won't listen, so I'll just continue to write... and write and write until I'm s...

The keys give. Under the weight of her fingers,  they fold and make one sound,  then one more,  and as she moves down the line,  getting a feel for the beautiful instrument,  many more notes fill the air. They permeate it with their soft tones  of love and friendship,  and then the darker, more sinister tones  of betrayal and deceit...  hate and anger and bitter sadness, but still this beautiful instrument is hers to use,...

Ten minutes before eight o'clock and I was out the door, rushing around the corner to the house owned by the woman who'd promised me my kitten at eight sharp. I knocked at the door even though I didn't see any extra cars in the driveway, figuring they'd just dropped him off or something and she had him inside. She opened the door and said I had to wait another day, the younger daughter wasn't letting anybody near the kitt...

She steps towards him, arms crossed over herself, head down in shame, but eyes up, looking at him. "What's wrong, hun?" A few tears slip down her cheeks and she bites her lip, shaking. "I know I'm soiled... but... please don't leave me. I need you." His arms open up, and he holds her, shushing her. "What that creep did wasn't your fault. I love you, I won't leave you. I need you too." You make me feel whole. You make me f...

Blast your music, just blast it, Block out the thoughts Block out the disappointment, Block out the emotions, Bring on the numbness, I'm used to that,  bring it back, I don't want these feelings anymore. Blast your music, just blast it, Block out the violence Block out the death Block out the world Bring on the imagination, I know this, I write it, give it to me, I'm tired of reality.

This is a compilation of 4 micro fictions... making it a short flash fiction. Hope you enjoy.  *** She walks slowly down the stairs from their little bathroom. Her stomach is sick, and she feels weak, but at least she'll be skinny- she'll look like all those beautiful girls in those magazines. She picks her backpack up, which feels like it weighs a ton, and walks out the door and to the bus stop. Right past her mother, ri...

She shakes, blade to her wrist, tears in her eyes, heart on the floor, stomped on like a doormat, flattened and frail, hidden from view, so as not to be hurt. The blood drips to the floor to the towel laid down. She shakes, She falls, She escapes, but in the end she is still cold.

Pit pat pit pat pitter patter pit pat Little paws across the floor, Those little mews I don't hear anymore, Picked you up with just one hand, You were so tiny, five inches from the ground you did stand. Him back then is now his head, The dog he chases now used to scare him til he fled, We put him on a leash so he wouldn't get lost, And now he must be in my lap at any cost.

She heard the voice, heard it as it told her how ugly,  how fat she was,  how much she needed to not eat, to be skinny.  And she ignored it,  and she lived  and she ate  and she was healthy. And for that,  because she ignored the voice  telling her she was unbeautiful,  she was a beauty.

Her hand comes up, the blade there, dripping red onto the white counter top. A single line of blood seeps from the wound she's created, starting to drip off, into the sink, staining the porcelain permanently with the darkest of thoughts. I want to die. No, not even that. She was numb to it all, even the cuts- these reminders of her anger at herself and the pain that was just Too Much- they don't hurt anymore. She doesn't...

Doesn't come to school, stays home sick. I'm there, sitting in the seat, next to the one she would usually be in. Don't think about it I tell myself, but how do you not think and wonder and worry about a friend who is getting herself too deep into a deadly situation? She is quite literally skin and bones and the best I can do is offer a stupid piece of pizza. What the hell kind of good is that doing? Plus, while doing tha...