You say I am obsessed with myself,
And the way I look.
Point out how I stare at the mirror and focus on every nook
And every cranny of my body.
But I am not obsessed, I just fear I’m going mad
From a terrifying disorder who knows how long I’ve had.
I‘m merely mapping out this body I see through this drunk-like haze.
Searching for a sign to tell me “this is you”
To tell me “this is right” and that there’s no mistake.
Pinching myself until I feel something in this dreamlike state.
It’s like a never ending nightmare, from which I
Cannot
Wake.
Staring at the mirror at this body
Which apparently is mine.
No I am not obsessed,
I just think I’m going mad,
From a terrifying disorder who knows how long I’ve had.

Sometimes the emptiness is the heaviest
The world feels numb
Like my connection to the world has long been disconnected
Like fingertips sanded away
Nerves sleeping
The only taste in my mouth is of the food eaten yesterday.

I live in a land of suspension
Swimming between worlds that don’t want me
Stuck as a nomad
a child of purgatory

I'm walking.
I can feel my feet touch the ground.
I am here.

I'm still walking.
I can barley tell if I'm on the ground.
Where am I.

My brain pulled the parachute,
told me to get out.
I had no say in this.

Noise is muffled,
As though I'm wearing headphones with no music playing.
Everything is a bit fuzzy.

I'm walking.
I can feel my feet on the ground.
Everything is back to how it was, and no one noticed I was gone.