AMBITION II
Smooth legged and red haired, she watched herself in the mirror. Each line of conversation that would go on between them was mouthed, everything she would say or should have said. That conversation turned to one of the future; an interview on her newly released critically acclaimed post-apocalyptic film. “Riveting. Absolutely Riveting.” they would say. She would reply with, “What the fuck does that even mean?” a typical response. They knew her well.
The blow dryer slid off of the counter, snapping her back to reality.
Blink, Blink.
Her stomach swelled with dinner.
He likes flat stomachs.
She must take immediate action to remove the disgusting bloat.
Abs, abs, abs. 40 sit ups. Crunches. Stretch, get flexible.
She should avoid eating so much.
For the first time in her life she set her eyes on each nutritional label before chowing down. Water became the drink of choice, and chocolate was no longer acceptable. Longingly she would gaze upon those lucky bastards who were able to eat carelessly.
She was the minority now, fighting for her body. Fighting for him, who she could not have.
AMBITION AT ITS FINEST
Oct. 18th @ 11:30-something
Her eyes were blank as she stared forward into the distance. The cold of her bare back against the wall released a grim chill that made every individual pore tingle. Slowly her fingers found their way to her hair, bleached & damaged, loved & destroyed. She ran her thumb along the cracked lines of her lips. They quivered, a testimony to unspoken emotions. Her brow, her lashes, her neck, her tongue, her stomach–they all reeked of attachment to him. She wanted him, she almost had him whole. Now she could only have half. Would he still take her? This question devoured her, body and mind. Not one second passed in a day where some part of her brain was not entirely wrapped within it as if by some iron blanket.
Flesh–his flesh–would be the only release; the only imprisonment, & she would settle for nothing less.
