gorefreak is the diminutive name for the people who swallow those two gray pills and become whirling tornadoes of flesh and organs and blood and metal and wires. you've known you wanted to be one ever since you saw a pair of them gamboling through the park on too-long stilt legs, rictus grins on beautiful faces on blood soaked pylons on meat on meat on meat. the smiles are mirrors of the smiley faces stamped on the two capsules in your hands. everyone knows why they smile so much, what else can something that beautiful cute sexy ever do? everyone knows but they all act shocked or afraid or disgusted.

your dad went for "disgusted". told you about how he loved you and would support anything you did as long as it wasn't stupid or faggy. he pays for all the food you eat and sometimes you feel like you don't want it and a moral bulimia would solve all your problems but by god you do love being able to eat. the pills smile up at you from your palm. if you take them then you'll never have to talk to him again and you'll be fucking beautiful finally but also you'll never be able to talk to him again. he resents the feeling that you're using him for his money and you aren't mostly but my god what else is there? you put the pills in the other hand and in doing so flip them over because looking at the smiles hurts too much right now.

a smart and responsible girl would put these right back in the bottle in the cabinet like so many times before, mechanical beauty never expires but if you don't have support and money then you will. ignore all the beautiful machine maidens out there with neither of those because if you think about how this repression is a choice you're making instead of something inevitable then you will throw up. you're a smart and responsible girl and you're only doing what you need to survive. if it was more serious than you would need the pills and the transformation to survive but you really don't wanna die either way so it's fine. it's fine and you don't wanna die. you can keep living in your disgustingly continuous flesh-suit because dying isn't something you want. you feel sick.