Her frail arms swung by her jutting hips as she pulled the tiniest amount of flab from her stomach and thighs and looked at herself in disgust.

She had grown to love the pain in her stomach. Her body begging.

Saccharine was her cocaine. Sugar, her ecstasy.

A sip of water washed out everything; hunger, pain, loss. To drown her sorrows.

Someday she will be light enough to fly. She knows she will.

She could hide everything with a baggy teeshirt and a purge. No one knows. No one noticed.

Taste had been forgotten along with her energy making her legs feel like lead with every step.

Her world grew fainter day by day. The colors merged together like a painting in the rain. They mixed, fading with each stroke. Until everything went black and she had no weight. A number small enough to fly.

Nothing tastes as good as thin does.