and if you are still the way you have always been, you're the lucky ones because most of us have taken ourselves apart down to the very molecules we are made up of and rearranged them to someone else's liking

and if you are still happy then you're the lucky ones, because most of us are so depressed we are willing to lather our stomachs in alcohol and burn our throats with smoke for fun, or to forget that person who made us feel like we were sitting in a haystack of needles, stabbing and wounding every inch of our skin

and if you still strive for your highest hopes and dreams, then you're the luckiest ones, because most of us settle for less, and only climb the ladder until we think we have reached the top

and if you're in love, you really are the luckiest of all, because we are all mostly bitter over those we have lost, thinking we are unable to find someone that will bring us the same happiness that the other person used to bring

They always told her she was skinny,
'You're like a twig' they used to say,
'You need a good roast dinner' they'd tell her.

She grew up being proud,
Of the way her bones jutted through,
Her pink paper skin.

When she reached 15,
The junk food and pride,
Caught up with her.

By 16 all she saw in the mirror,
Was mountains of fat and rolls upon rolls,
She wondered if they would still call her skinny.

At 16, she began cutting down on meals,
'If I miss lunch, I'll lose a little weight.'
'I don't need breakfast, not to be skinny.'

She can't tell anyone else,
She's the skinny one,
She can't be fat.

They've started noticing now,
The rolls under her tshirt,
They seem to get some satisfaction,
That the skinny girl is fat.

By nearly 17 she cannot stomach more than one meal,
Anymore and she feels sick,
To the pit of her stomach.

Aged 17 she wonders,
If they'd've brought her up the skinny girl,
If they knew how fat she'd get when she grew up.

Aged 17 she wonders how she got so
*******
Fat.