25…75…200…300…600mg blurring prescriptions blurring numbers blurring faces. Recovery, burial, mind churning epiphany. I miss her, a piece of me that has died. I look in the mirror naked and wonder how people don’t know. I imagine peeling skin falling like feathers to the carpet, unveiling the damage underneath. Everyone dies, but a piece of me has left before its time. I stare at my breasts, average in size. My thin waist and large hips, jutting out drastically like sail boats on a dock. I'm small, only five foot one, trusting, easy laugh, easy target. Twice. It has happened twice. Between my