Cake

I want cake.

I want a different body, a different face. I want to be beautiful.

But I'm the fat kid, so I want cake.

I suppose I could always stuff my face and then throw it up later.

I'd be beautiful then right?

Is that what it takes to be pretty?

Must I always destroy myself to be perfect enough for everyone else?

I suppose the cake can wait.

Better yet, never touch it again.

I'll be thin then.

But I'm the fat kid, so I want cake.