“You will never be good enough.”

“Lindsay am I fat?”

I wasn’t but I thought that I was. I ate a whole cake one day. And before I knew it, food became a habit. 25 lbs later and I am picking myself up again. I think back to this specific night that happened last spring.

I have a picture.


We were having some fight. And before I knew it, he brought up my body. “You should lose weight so the next guy falls in love with your body because no one else is going to like the real you”. The thoughts swirled around my head in a constant motion. Too many drinks cloud my memory. But I recall crying. I remember calling the guy who I was talking to and crying. And the tears fell and fell. I wasn’t home. I felt so hurt that he was calling me fat. I felt fat. And soon after I just let my self-control plummet.

“It would gross me out whenever I saw you naked with all your stretch marks”.

Until he said that, I thought that he accepted my shortcomings. My favorite thing about his body was the one scar on his abdomen. I don’t think that I embraced the pain right away. I pretended like it never happened. Then one night, when he came back, I was drunk and we were about to have sex.

“I’m disgusting, you think I’m disgusting”, the words came, tripping the moment, entangled with my tears. I had never before cried over alcohol but I did.

It was always a torment. He had an enormous amount of power over my mental being. I am leaving down the fears, that he left inside of me, in this post.

I have been the girl who flings herself into pain. It’s time I heal my body and mind.


Something Old, Recently Found


By Laura Muneton

Written Nov 13 2010

Boom. Boom. Boom. Ka. Boom. Olaf pounded and pounded on the wall.

Craaack. Finally, the damage, had been, done.

He smiled and stared as the little tiles began to fall.

His knuckles hurt and glimmered with oozing magical crimson power.

Finally the clock struck five and he knew that it was time to commence his sick game.

He picked up his phone and dialed the number, one, by, one, savoring what lay ahead

With a deep rich voice his charm flickered strong and easily he confirmed that night’s date.

The next step always caused him the most regret.

Slowly he opened the cabinet and pressed the cream that would trap his power away.

The blood stopped oozing and with hesitation he washed the remnants down the drain.

He hid himself in an expensive Armani suit and sprinkled to his disgust burberry cologne.

The soft fibers were driving him insane. He wanted to tear his skin to shreds.

Instead he began to set his trap in motion and made his condo look luxurious and inviting.

The clock chimed eight and now the game would really commence.


It was a warm and beautiful night. The kind of night where everything has

a false feeling of happiness and liberation.

When Siena opened her door Olaf was forced to stare at perfection.

Her perfect hourglass figure was outlined in a dazzling black dress.

The gorgeous figures on her face were enhanced by hour and hours of preparation.

Olaf smiled sweetly as his muscles urged to break her spell.

Her beauty mocked his imperfections and he couldn’t stand her delicate hand around his bicep.

She was nothing but a decoration and Olaf destroyed decorations.

She was like a piece of gold next to the waste of an animal.

Siena’s kisses sent a direct demand to his brain. He wanted to choke her with his tongue.

But with practice Olaf lightened the mood and took her to eat in an expensive establishment.

She smiled and twirled her hair as she talked and never did her comments stray.

Her high soprano voice sent a pounding into Olaf’s voice.

Several times he had to hold back his need to shove his steak knife into her vocal cords.


Finally it was time to bring her back to the condo.

To anybody it would appear that Olaf was just excited at the prospect of a night of passion but

There was a hidden reason for Olaf’s extreme ecstasy.

When they entered the condo Siena stared in wonder at its beauty and price.

But in the corner of her eye she saw Olaf lock his door weirdly with seven locks.

She smiled lightly and sauntered to the couch where she sat in awkward silent.

The mirror on the table was all wrong and clearly distorted her features. She turned it away.

Everything in this house felt wrong. She began to notice chippings on the wall.

Her head screamed run but Siena knew that there was no possible way to undo all the locks.

Olaf smiled at her and brought her wine. Eventually his attention made her lose her suspicion.

With sauciness she twisted his head for a kiss.

But Olaf sensing her movement grabbed her hard by the waist. He squeezed he until the air

rushed out of her lungs and continued to hold her as her heart beat no more.

She screamed and pounded. Her tears made her makeup run and soon her perfection was gone.

Olaf laughed and reached for knife. He had no time. He wanted her heart and it would only be

Good for a second more.

He opened her chest brutally.

Blood squirted into his expensive couture couch.

He grimaced at the loss but continued to lust at her blood

Soon he had her heart and without hesitation began to eat it away.

With a sigh Olaf cut Siena into pieces and began to clean away the mess.

His satisfaction grew dim and soon enough he began to pound on the wall once again.


After tomorrow’s date everything would be okay.




The Fragrance of Life

Lucy wakes up dazed and lost. It is dark, she is in a bed, not her own bed, and next to her is the man who took her out that night. She gazes around the room, feeling her head fill with stiffness and pain. It is 4:53 the clock reads. She is bound to the bed; she cannot move. Moving would mean that this is not a dream.

It smells like acid, like a bottle of alcohol has just opened. Close one eye first, and wait, “What happened last night?” There is no sound, and she awakes ready now to face her mistakes.

“What happened last night?” she asks.

“Nothing we just had fun,” replies a lazy voice next to her on the bed.

He kisses her and she relaxes but then he takes her head and places it once again into a sinful place. She obliges but cannot stand to remain within the room. She gets up, puts on yesterdays clothes, finds her bearings, looks in her bag and sees five singles inside it that were not there last night. He follows her lead and immediately cleans the sheets and the cover. What happened here?

She flees, takes a taxi to the station, feels the terrible hangover of not remembering. At home she attempts to find something. Days go by and he does not reach out to her again.

Two dollar tuesday again. “This video game reminds me of him.” She will tell him and find no reply.

There are voices, so many voices but she seeks only one, he does not come.

One day she is seeking something. A house maybe? But she ends up in a church. Welcome the walls sing. She feels the love within this place, goes to eat breakfast and decides to try out this new place.

She will shed her skin of past sins. move beyond her previous state of emptiness. She is awake finally. No one physical will be able to attain control of her. She has found the lord eternal.

The Lights

As I look towards the window, I suddenly face a building of changing lights. The lights transition from purple to red and back again into purple. There is no significance to the color of the lights but they caught my attention. And as my eyes began to look at the building, suddenly the lights from the train station shifted from being there to really being within my focus. I’m not sure why but the moment brought me back to the summer. Specifically towards the end, and I felt myself sharing a moment with the man who took away my desire to love freely again.

We both wanted something. I wanted his love and consistency. He wanted my youth, my recklessness, he wanted to taste me and then toss me. It wasn’t about leaving forever but about maintaining control of the situation by treating me like an indispensable object.

I remember standing by the ferry station and looking out towards the setting sun. “Did you know that the sky seems pink because of the pollution within the atmosphere?” I asked.

“This is my favorite time of the day, but I guess now it has a different meaning,” he replied.

I escaped from his grasp but my mind often goes back to that day. Why? Because I let him have me that day. My words meant nothing, my body was the only thing that counted.

A woman once gave me a ride to Hoboken. She warned me about men like the one I was skipping organic chemistry to see. He will leave you, have his fun and leave you. And he did.

He came back but it’s too late. I can’t trust him or myself. I let him have me, because I wanted him to stay. But he didn’t. Yet he came back begging to redeem the dilapidation. But he is not my knight. There is no real hero in this story. This is the 21st century; we were granted the anti-hero figure in the 20th century. Humanity is not perfect.

There is crispness in the air; I began to love even the smell of cigarette smoke because it brought me back to memories of you. Sitting in your patio, with the new york skyline in view, we sat, we talked, and we drank wine. I recall myself in heels, wearing too much make-up (what’s new?), and sitting on his lap as I drank my red wine.

I went far in one year. From my high school marine boy, to the pop punk boy in my class, to the man who had the world in his wallet, and finally towards independent serenity. I understand my worth. But the pretty lights take me back, to nights of obscure sinfulness and laughter. Glamor kills.

The Last Reflection

It was 4 am when I awoke next to you on your bed; I didn’t remember anything but I didn’t feel shame. It was you and waking next to you wasn’t a habit but it could have been. But you didn’t want any habits, unless you count alcohol and cigarettes as a habit. 

We stopped talking after this particular day. I was waiting for you to come back but the waiting led me elsewhere and I am now in a better place. I should have known better than to think that you would ever actually fall for me. All the language that you used to first exalt me and then to undress me to the littlest core. 

I let you have me. I took part in every single thing that you asked of me. I let you kiss me, I felt your fingertips send electricity through my being, and I felt the first ever euphoria about meeting someone who made my soul spin. But with that spin came consequences.

I spent august with you drinking, smoking, and talking. Every time I saw you I would become excited and would prepare an outfit that would distinguish your version of Laura from any others. I wanted so badly for you to stay. But the truth is that I was only one of the many escapes that you use to feel anything. Eventually your attention faltered but this post is not about cataloguing our moments. It is closure, and it is the looking back that I need to move on. 

We woke up and you kissed my shoulder, my neck, my face. I gave you, a last give of pleasure. And after you felt a release, you closed your eyes. I lay next to you unsure of what to do. And I looked at your face. You had the most beautiful features that I ever saw in a man. But as I got up to leave and you cleaned up the covers, I saw that this was not love. And I left knowing that this was the end. 

I told you I loved you. Did I mean it? Yes except love in my opinion is not an attachment but a promise to accept. I accepted your shortcomings and also knew that it was time to leave. You came back but I was free of your game.