I don't think I will eat today, and nobody will notice. Nobody ever notices. That's why I do it, you see?

Nobody ever notices, but I notice. How thin my body is. How transparent my skin, how pale my face. I live for the day when someone says she's so thin, if she turned around, she'd disappear. I've disappeared.

I've become a ghost.

Like a ghost, I wonder around this house, this big old house and don't touch the walls, or the furniture. Nothing is moved, I move nothing. I don't change anything. I am a ghost.

I don't even look in the mirror anymore, I know this house so well now that I know when they are coming and I know when to trick myself , when to simply avert my gaze to the ceiling as I pass. Mirrors ruin it you see, they show you what is there, and I don't want to be there. I am a ghost. Besides, I like ceilings, I sometimes lie flat on my back and wish we lived on the ceiling instead of the floor, everything would be so much emptier, clearer, and simpler; in other words, life would be beautiful again.

That's what I try to do, I suppose, make my life beautiful. I can do that so well now! There have been moments of such pure ethereal quality, in this house! When I have honestly believed that if I just stepped back I would disappear completely, into the very fabric of the room!

These moments can't, and never do last long enough. One second I am a ghost, eyes closed, senses closed, and all other's senses closed to me, the next second it will happen. A door will slam, a voice will call, or often several voices, all at once, a cacophony of screeching, reverberating noise.

I have to flee. A ghost, I flit between banisters and glide up staircases, through rooms without a sound. Nothing is changed, I change nothing, I am a ghost.

I hide in my sanctuary and wait. Sleep. Ghosts sleep too, but only because they are waiting for the rapture of being nothing. And I'm so close.