My mind is a maze. A never ending maze, consisting of dead ends and hidden secrets, but most of all my insecurities.


My heart is a drum beat. A steady drum beat that reflects my feelings and makes me quicken my pace when I see you. Because I get so nervous about how you think I look.


My stomach is a cave. Empty.


My fingertips are my maps and compasses. Guiding my hands down the floor length mirror.


My ribs aren't moving, yet every day they become more visible.


My lips are sewn together by the needle in your hand.


My ears are the harbor for your critiques


My eyes are a dam waiting to spill.


My anorexia is a ballbat hitting a homerun into the side of my head.