There's this girl named Ana, she's in my head, I refuse to let her in, but she says she'll help me win. She says all it is is being thin. Don't eat! Your fat! She makes it seem so easy, but it's killing me. One hundred eleven, she says go for one hundred seven, every pound I lose is another round we win, Soon I have learned, every pound I lose is not something I win. There's this girl named Ana. DON'T let her in, No matter how much you lose you'll never be thin.

You wake up
By 8 o'clock
You get up to
The fridge
Wondering what
To
Eat

But then
Ana knocks at the door
And when you don't
Reply To her knocks
She keeps ringing
And ringing
And knocking
(...) So you go to the door,

Knowing she won


And there Ana stood
With a smile on her face
She goes to the fridge
And lock it with
Endless locks

She tells you: "It's for your own good"
She tells you: "No one wants a fat cow like you"
And you, you just say:
"Thank you"

Because you know
Ana will keep her eye
On you
And follow you
And you won't have
Any choice
But to surrender to
Her

**Ana always win

Eat till you're sick
Just as a big ******* to this *****
This ***** inside my head
Who won't stop until I'm dead
She puts tape over my mouth
And a scale under my feet
Then the worst part is, she'll make you believe without a doubt
That she's doing you a good deed
Like she's doing this for you
But what she really does in fact
Is take your whole life and refuse to give it back
And just when you think you have a reprieve
Like you've actually escaped her spiny clutches
She yell at you that she'll never leave
And about how you've lost your muchness
Then you'll eat a little something
Just to show her who's boss
But then something turns to nothing
And you're obsessed by how much you've lost
This ***** will whisper snide comments at you all throughout the day
Pounding away at your self confidence so all that's left is self-hate
A high residual between who you are and who you ought to be and how the only thing standing in your way is all these ******* calories
She'll make you turn on things you once loved
Till food becomes the enemy and she turns you into something that only she loves
She'll tell you lots of things to get you seeing bones
But what she won't tell you is that her methods are never condoned
What she won't tell you is how she paints on your mirror at night
That way you see what she wants and not what's right
What she won't tell you is that she's just a scared little *****
Who's not even real
No, that ***** won't tell you that it's okay to have a meal

Ana,
I used to play with you when I was younger.
I remember you were so proud
the first time I weighed 125,
I guess those stomach problems came in handy
for keeping you by my side,
I'd go days without eating,
and you'd smile.
I never let you influence me too much, though...
Not until now.
I've always had you on my mind.
You are inherently deadly,
you are addictive in your toxicity.

I'm not hungry.

I can't help but wonder when Mia
will get me on my knees again.

I'm not hungry.

I'm one of those people who
******* about romanticising mental illness
and eating disorders, yet here I am,
giving a name to you.

I'm not hungry.

All the poems about how my razor
takes my blood and breath but gives me life,
but I've written none about you for a while.
Blood drips from my arms and thighs
and, pinching the soft, scarred skin,
I think of you.

I'm not hungry.

You are a decidedly perfect example
of deadly willpower.
You are one of my several methods
of self-destruction
and yet another thing for me to fall in love with,
I am an addict itching for a bit
of self-hatred, and you are an easy fix.

I'm not hungry.

Maybe if I was just a little bit thinner,
then maybe I'd get there.

*I'm not hungry...

You say she's awful
That she doesn't care
You don't know
How easy we talk
And converse about my life
Her name is Ana,
She's no demon
She's my friend,
And she cares more about me
Than anyone ever will
She tells me the truth
No matter how much it hurts
People lie to me,
She refuses to stoop that low
She helps make me perfect
Beautiful
Happy
Smart
Lovable
Worth something
And so much more
If it wasn't for her
I'd still be
Lying in bed
Blabbing on the phone
Or spending all day with people
She taught me who they were
That people weren't what they seemed
That no-one really cared
No-one but her
I would rebel,
Thinking I could handle life
Without her help
I quickly came back
Realizing I was wrong
She took me back in,
And punished me
For ******* up
Saying it was for my own good
She tells me when I lack hope
And when I'm being a ***
What I need to do
To get the guy across the room
To look in my direction
And how to grab
Some masculine attention
To you,
She seems like a *****
But you don't know her like I do
She's really rather nice