About becoming beautiful, inside and out.


6. It's better like this.

I can't feel my feet.

I'm not soaked in sweat. My heart doesn't jump all over the place. My feet aren't cold as they used to be. The warm water makes my hands all wrinkly. They're almost like raisins, but instead of being a dull, light-brown color, they're pale and as white as a ghost's. If I were to believe ghosts would exist, I'd reckon they'd resemble the small figure of a body that i have left.

It's better like this.

The sounds and poorly sized bubbles that appeared from the motion of my mouth underwater were slightly calming. The water embracing such a fragile body, which is a bit ironic, but not untrue, felt good against the skin. If I could stay here my whole life, that'd be...


The golden door lock was right in my reach.




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