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alexandria Aug 2017
you know that feeling that you get often but not often. you feel parts of it constantly but only sometimes do you get the whole effect. that feeling that starts in your stomach- feels similar to a punch. it takes the breath out of you for what seems like an eternity of time, and before you can remember to breathe again, you become focused on this punch. it's expanding now. up your esophagus and all the way down to your abdomen. you can almost picture it as a big deep thick dark fog just spreading throughout your body. you fall to the ground gasping for air while blinded by all of the warm salty tears that snuck up on the back of your eyeballs ever so subtlety
it's the worst feeling i've ever felt.
its embarrassment.
make sure you have a good support system please
  Aug 2017 alexandria
jennifer wayland
step number one: read the book wintergirls.
tuck away every detail like you're cramming for a test.
dog-ear the pages and carry it with you like a travel guide.
decide that with your fingers and toes always icy cold for as long as you can remember,
you were destined to be a wintergirl.
reread it periodically, for inspirational purposes.

step two: download the myfitnesspal app.
use it to track every calorie you put into your body.
memorize that an oreo has seventy calories, an apple has one hundred, a cup of hot chocolate has eighty,
a bagel has two hundred seventy (a number that terrifies you),
and on and on and on.
let numbers float behind your eyes just before you go to bed,
and let them stay there as you throw off the covers to do guilty pushups and situps in your room
for twenty minutes (burning one hundred and twenty calories).
ignore the warnings shouted at you in red text
when you eat less than twelve hundred calories per day.
look at the projections it gives you for five weeks from now
with weights that seem both too small and too large at the same time.
when your net for the day hits the negatives after weeks of trying,
feel the slightest pang of satisfaction.

step three: find your "thinspiration".
make a tumblr just to look at pictures of jutting-out spines and thigh gaps and ribs.
hold your phone up next to your reflection in the mirror
and pick out everywhere your body differs from hers.
when the girls on the fitness blogs start looking too heavy for your goal,
find the eating-disorder blogs.
obsess over their bodies almost as much as you obsess over yours,
but not quite as much.

step four: begin losing weight.
imagine yourself floating away, feather-light.
imagine yourself becoming skin and bones.
imagine this as you drag your heavy body from class to class,
as your muscles waste from malnutrition.
imagine this as you have to clean your hairbrush out
three times while you work tangles from your hair.
imagine this as you snap at anyone and everyone,
as you spend hours locked in your room.

step five: become a poet and write about yourself.
romanticize your own demons, just by calling them demons.
use as many metaphors as you can,
to avoid the harsh language of the truth.
and especially avoid writing about the crippling guilt
that hits you when you eat too much,
you're fat you're worthless you'll never be anything,
and hits you when you don't eat enough,
what's wrong with you how did you let it get to this point
voices in your head never abating.
avoid writing about your lack of motivation and constant exhaustion and always,
always, use words that imply mystery.
describe your mind as foggy, call your body diminishing.
never say it how it is, because you could convince yourself to quit.
never say that it's torture and you're in pain
and you just wish you were eight again, never considering this path.
never say that you need help but you don't want help.

if you have the urge to say these things,
say only that this disorder is not one you would willingly give up,
because you finally have something to control.
because it is the truth,
but it is also the romanticized truth.
trigger warning, obviously. this just came out of nowhere the other day. apologies for how harsh/offensive it may be.
  Aug 2017 alexandria
there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve

some eat cake with their eyes
while others are busy planning their demise
one wants to see bones, another, headstones

one could love themselves if they were just 40 pounds thinner
"maybe i'll love myself if i just skip dinner"
the other has no appetite, a battle with calories she does not fight

a battle, rather, with herself
to **** herself or stay in living hell
too preoccupied to care what is on the pantry shelf

there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve
alexandria Aug 2017
Habitual Liar
alexandria Jul 2017
the voices aren't scary
but the walls kind of are
they creep and they stare
and they laugh when you're scared
they follow you everywhere-
they're marvins bestfriends!
when he's not around,
the wall surely is.
they creak and they croak
they act as a cloak
they hide the evil
until it's ready to choke
choke. choke. choke.
Stop! get out of my ears!
please just leave my brain
exit my fears!
i won't **** my mom
no matter how much you ask!
wait what did you just say
about my ***
i'm fat? what do you mean
mom said i look pretty and lean
i know it's her job but
she only says what she means!
look dan, daisy, marvin, and sam!
i love myself just the way i am
huh? you can't read my thoughts..
wait what you can?
ok fine i admit it
i hate all of my skin
my hair, my stomach
my legs and my hips
yeah, you're right!
i can be thin!
thinner than the
****** blade of grass
i left last winter
to twirl in the wind
yeah! i won't need razor blades if
my collarbones can cut diamonds
and shave ice!
all of my ribs showing??
that'd be nice
honestly i agree you're totally right
the stomach acid does make
my lips look nice
a pretty pink.
pretty orange, pretty red, pretty purple
i remember when the blood
i coughed up was only an orange
but now it's a red,
a beautiful crimson red!
the same color i bled out
onto my bed
red roses used to blossom
out of my forearm
oh what a gorgeous purple!
or is that a blue?
now i see yellow now white
now black!
black. black. black.
oh good i've woken up
what a dream!
wait mom, why am i hooked
up to a machine?
get this ******* tube out of my nose!
you guys this isn't funny,
i wanna go home!

— The End —