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Array
(
[sid] => 35468
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Growing Pants
[time] => 2004-02-18 20:34:47
[hometext] => This is about my worst moments and my perfectionism
[bodytext] => My pants are growing every day. I watch them grow as I waste away. I weigh myself and measure my success. The more I lose, the more I want to eat less. My stomach growls, and shrieks with pain. I fear the food for the weight I’d gain. I don’t want to eat, I won’t become fat, And I don’t want people to see me as some dumb, shallow brat. I’ve stopped getting hungry, I want to be thin. Fat is the enemy in this battle I must win. My shirts are getting looser, I’ve lost all my curves. And suddenly everyone is getting on my nerves. I’m bitter and forbidding; I’m no longer fun. People that used to love being with me, now turn their backs and run. One day I’ll be perfect for everyone nearby, But by the time I’m finished, there’ll be no one left to hear my lie. My parents yell at me to clean up my act. They think I’m just pretending; I wish my bags could be packed. I’m sick of worrying about who I am and the size of my pants, But I can’t stop this music because I’ve started to dance. This song that is playing sings of fear and dread. I sing along and dance to the song while I starve until I’m dead. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 267 [topic] => 13 [informant] => kayald [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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