In one years time she'd fall in line with the slim thin trend, she'd lose her weight and gain nothing but an unstable mind and a loss of morale. She'd be popular with all the wrong people for about a month and not be proud of the things she'd done. She'd taste a taste that lives in your blood and can hardly be undone. They'd think she's pretty and kiss her eyes and cheeks and lips. And for all of twenty minutes be enthralled. She'd lose sight of her old friends if you could call them friends at all seeing as how they didn't notice how her close fit more loosely than ever nowadays, how her belts hade homemade notches and how her wallet was fatter from not buying her lunches. And then one day she'd get caught and be sent away. To the people that always make you smile and tell you you look pretty even though she thought she looked so heavy and they would shrug it off and smoosh another ten pounds down her mouth. And when she'd gained nearly thirty she'd be sent home with a warning and a therapist that told her she was lying and only accepted the things they wanted to hear. But she grew to not care about all that and promised to eat every day and go to the school where people avoided her like the plague. She'd fall in love with a man who loved men and hate herself for the habits. But she'd grow up and love men and women in college. She was tall enough now to drop out during her third year because she doesn't care about philosophy anymore and just cares about her skin under the warm glow of a light and camera. She'd find a modeling agency that whistled at her thin figure and played with her dyed blonde hair and they'd pay for a few uncomfortable surgeries and give her that diet that she'd perfected as a teen. She'd fall back into her old habits and pop pills like they were candy. And they'd take pictures and put them in magazines and on signs and ads. She'd make her way to Hollywood via one million dirty deeds. Maybe be recognized by somebody semi-famous and brought into the real world. Boys would write songs about this lovely Marilyn Monroe and she'd assume the role without much emotion. She'd meet an actor and they'd live for years together to hide their little secrets. And when their secrets finally came out she'd fall out of Hollywood and back home. Soon after she'd find her way into a plastic surgeon's office, and a tattoo parlor within the same month. She'd be the girl she wanted to be when she was young and stable-headed. She'd pierce (38 times) and ink (A cascade of bread-and-butterflies down her back) her skin and cut out all those uncomfortable surgeries she'd had before, she'd dye her hair magenta and braid it back. She'd settle down for all of twelve and a half days then get up and go with what little possesions she had and leave for New York City where she'd turn in her resume to a well-known jean company. She'd be featured as a wild child and was a hit among the populace, she'd be called Bones and it would be tattoed up her arm later on in olde-english-style letters. She'd model with girls in comprimising positions and the billboards would be set up in cities around the world. Then she'd retire to operating the cameras that took her pictures and design her own clothes for a brand called Electric City. She'd hire all the models and take their pretty pictures and tell them to say cheese. She'd meet a girl and they'd fall in love and live in a house in the country. They'd plan to get married but their plans were always swept under the rug. And then the girl would be the victim of a hate crime as she was walking home. This would all hit her very hard and she'd withdraw from the world for three months and then she would wake up one day, leave her house and go to India, to remember how to talk religion. She'd remember how she used to believe in angels and she'd become steadfast in her light spirituality. She'd travel the world and after letting go of her lost love, she'd find a new one, this time a girl from France. They'd move to Japan and grow older and adopt a few kids and give them beautiful names, they'd grow up to be great people and activists maybe. She'd write books and books and books and maybe they'd help people. She'd be featured and critiqued multiple times and she'd give herself a new name and remember her long forgotten childhood. And three days before her last, best-selling book and auto-biography is published she'll be killed by the white tiger she'd pose with on the cover. Her partner would start an organization named after the woman she'd loved before her and they may have helped change the world a little.