I hear a voice in my mind. Taunting me, testing me, testing my limits, pushing me, face-forward.
And it's so easy, it's always been too easy for me. No skills necessary, no risk-taking involved. So simple. Eat 3 small, spaced out meals, drink water endlessly, rinse, repeat.

Or hop on an elliptical machine for the next two hours, till the warm droplets of sweat drip down, in the crevice between your breasts, down your flexing thighs. All at once, the endorphins hit: a numbing, pleasant high. Rinse, repeat.

Almond shaped, mascara-laden eyes wink at me, tempting me like the forlorn songs of Sirens. Come, come join us. The models, the beauty icons of our society, how can anyone doubt their lecherous power? So tempting with their beauty. Tempting me to drown.

It's too easy to dive in, and theres's such incredible power in choice, in the ability to mold, control yourself, close your eyes and leap.

But once you slip into that cool, salty water, and you feel your torso grabbed by warm, slimy hands, there's no turning back. Siren songs cease, and give way to blood-curling screams. I feel my legs twisted by the seaweed. Seaweed in my eyes, my hair, and their fingers, their gooey fingers grabbing hold so tightly.

Take a deep breath, and let the salty water burn into your lungs, and as your consciousness fades, pray silently that your loved ones will someday find your skeleton, washed ashore.