Noxhidis
I can't think clearly. I am clouded and clogged by illness, and my good mind fails me. I feel as if I am a shell. Please, let me be better soon.
I am separated from you by a tall, blank mass. No features, nothing to look at, just a blank, barren structure that keeps me from you. Oh how I wish I could break through the barrier to touch you, feel you, to know you are real and not a simple figment of my imagination.
I am small. People look at me and see a stick. They think I starve myself, dismiss me as someone who tries to look like the models in the magazines. But that is not true. I do not starve myself. Instead, I am cursed with a body that refuses to be substantial enough.