Perfect

I stare at my bowl of salad.

Every leaf of lettuce matters.
Every slice of tomato is crucial..
Every drop of dressing is calculated...

My life is perfect. Down to the last gram.

Numbers flash around in my hazy head as I attempt to deduct and omit more by each passing day
- smaller lettuce leaves tomorrow
- thinner slices of tomato tomorrow
- no dressing tomorrow.


My life is perfect. Down to the last drop.

I have no time for friends - I spend my time feeding my obsession with hunger and oh how I love the thought of self-devour. It's such a powerful feeling.

Right, so, tomorrow there will be
- smaller lettuce leaves
- thinner slices of tomato
- no dressing (just salt and pepper...a lot of salt)

But if I feel like I can push myself further, I'll do even better than that...I'll make it perfect


No salad.