I tried
I truly did
But now I'm left
Sitting here wondering
If recovery is
Even plausible.

This has been my life
For almost six years
And how do you
Give something up
After that long?

People say that there's hope
But I can't seem to see
any left in
Pandora's beautiful box,
There's no hope for me.

Do you see now,
Just how desperate I feel
How alone
How scared
I just want to be free.

It's Christmas day
Everyone's smiling
Everyone's fake.
Joy is lacking,
Emptiness is raging,
and no one cares
about anyone,
just everyTHING.
Why have we gotten
So superficial?
What has come
To the world,
That we should behave,
In such a way?
You get everything on your list.
It's still not enough.
You should be content,
But your fake smile
Is the closest thing
To happiness you know.
Your family is together,
But that may truly be
A bad thing.
Because, suddenly,
No one is themselves,
And you're all transforming
Into little Barbie dolls.
This Christmas,
Just like all of the last,
You ask yourself,
Why isn't it enough?
Well, I'll tell you why.
You're focusing on the wrong,
And not the right,
The bad,
Rather than the good,
Santa,
Rather than Jesus.

Our relationship became a game,
We both needed to win
We were on the same team,
But still competed against each other
Almost killing ourselves while trying
Who could be the thinnest
Weigh the least
Eat the least
Take up no space
We were helping each other die
And then we helped others
Do the same to themselves
My hair is falling out
But all I can think,
Is maybe that will make
The number go down
But whoever wins this game
Will really lose,
In reality
We all will lose
She killed us
Took four teenage girls
To their premature grave
And used us,
To take many more.
Are we happy yet?
No, we are skeletons,
but we believe we are whales.
We are murders,
Teaching wannabes
How to be,
But we claim to be helping.
Life is not a game,
and we need to stop treating it
As if it is.
We need to value life,
To stop playing the game
Before we end up
Six feet under.

She whispers in my ear;
her laughter echoes coldly in my mind.
Skeletal, beautiful.
I want to be her.
I can never be her.
She slinks around,
winning all the attention.
I hate her.
I hate me.
She has driven me to this.
She is self hatred.

To everyone who called me fat,
You are why I'm doing this
Starving myself to bones.

To everyone who called me a ****,
You are why I'm doing this
Throwing myself at guys.

To everyone who called me ugly,
You are why I'm doing this
Spending hours getting ready in the morning.

To everyone who hurt me,
You are why I'm doing this
Why I don't trust, or even get touched.

To everyone who used me,
You are why I'm doing this
Why I have long sleeves covering the cuts, which represents the pain.

To everyone who loved me,
Too much to use cruel words
You are the reason I'm still alive.