Stop pretending. For a moment... will you? You and I, him and her... All have been witnesses to this growing cancer. Texts and pics. Words and remarks. You friends too have looked at my breasts, and fantasized about ripping my clothes apart. When you read that beautiful poem about my eyes, I blushed a little, so wide I smiled. It took me a few months to realise, you were just preparing to turn me blind. Oh no no... don't enact, don't tell me you know nothing. That this is a different breed, and you never were a part of conversations like these. You're not surprised. Neither am I. This filth is in the air of the world where I've lived everyday of my life. My curves are an asset, valued more than my intelligence. After all a thoughtful girl with a voice is a threat. A difficult project... undertaken only for that sense of achievement. A pic for you my love... because on your finger tips I place a thing as flimsy as my trust. As I sleep peacefully at night, with my heart waltzing somewhere far in the meadows of Tuscany, you're out there gazing at my hips, with the sex starved retards in your circle... all in the name of friendship.