I have. I have to be empty.
That's the reason I get up early.
Making breakfast and then threwing it all.
Till my parents get pissed off.
"And then why are you so skinny?" They ask.
But they can't understand.
They can't understand that the feeling of being empty is my source for happiness.
Being empty is happiness.
But they can't understand.
They just can't.
Thay can't understand how much trapped I am.
In my own self.
In my own skin.
I can't eat.
I still have meat on me.