I can't help but laugh when someone complains that they're "starving". Isn't it ironic that while they whine about it, I'm the one who's really starving, and I'm loving it?
I know what I want, I know how to get it, but it's hard sometimes.
All I want in this world is to be thin, beautiful, and loved. I can't cry, but sometimes I want to so badly that I beg the higher powers to just please let me cry.
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