I'm trying to get over myself.
I really am.
I don't like being the center,
And my problems make that so.
I don't want everyone always commenting
That I am making no progress,
That I'm not trying,
Because I am.
I am really trying.
You just can't see it, because all of this is an
Inward Battle,
That doesn't just suddenly stop.
No matter how much you want me to,
I can't stop hating myself in a day,
Or a week,
Or a month,
Or even a year.
Because I have been looking at myself
This way,
For a long time now.
It doesn't just stop.
That's not how it works.

I should have my phone taken away from me.
I take pictures of myself with it
All the time,
Just to make myself feel
Worse
About myself,
If that is even possible.
I use the photos like a zoomed in
Mirror.
Something made to specifically
Point out my flaws.
To point out
The scars
The rolls
The bumps
All of the things that are perfectly
Natural.
But I don't want
Natural.
The only thing
Natural
Has done for me
Is make me want to shed
My body
For one entirely different.
And,
In a way,
I am,
Shedding my
Body.
I have changed,
A lot.
I have grown to
Crave
The pain in the pit of my gut.
I have figured out
Every
Single
Way
To make my bones protrude
Further
From beneath my skin.
I have learned to
Control
How much I eat.
I have figured a way to
Toss my food,
Instead of consume it.
Because I would rather
Die
Than consume another
Calorie,
To have another
Pound
On my body.
I have the
Perfect
Amount of
Control
Over myself,
But I am no more
Beautiful.
Everything just
Hurts.
And no,
I can't "Just Eat"
To stop that
Pain.
It doesn't work like
That.
Things are so much more
Complicated.
I wish they weren't.
Maybe,
Just maybe,
If they weren't,
I might love
Myself,
Instead of
Cry
Over a ******
Number
Every morning.

You tell me I am wrong to think the way I do.
God, I wish I could just stop thinking the way I do.
But I can't.
These things are engrained.
The collarbones,
The ribs,
The hipbones.
The things I crave.
All I can think is
"Thin".
All I can tell myself is
"Thin".
But I am not thin.
When I look in the mirror,
I am disgusted.
I pinch at my skin,
And I beat it as punishment,
For being
Imperfect.
And I know that
Flaws are natural,
And nothing about this
Disorder
Is natural.
But that stopped making a difference
A long,
Long,
Time ago.
Natural,
Healthy,
Okay,
Normal,
Average,
Not dying.
None of that matters.
Skinny stopped being
Enough.
Being bones
Is all I ache for.
And I am nowhere near
Bones.
I am nowhere near
Skinny.
I am nowhere near
Thin.
But it's all I want.
And it's what I
Destroy
My body for.
I'm broken,
And nobody can fix me.
I have been like this for years.
God, I wish I didn't have to be
Fat.
If I weren't
Fat,
I wouldn't let my body ache,
And Decay
For my version of
"Perfection."
If I weren't
Fat,
I wouldn't **** myself
Every day.

The way people look at me
Change me.
The words people speak
Change me.
The unwarranted attention
Changes me.
The hateful stares
Change me.
The world has
Changed me,
And disordered me.
I have become this
Entirely broken thing
And I just can't seem to heal from all of this.
I have been made brittle
And soft.
I can't stand being this weak.
Please,
Just look at me.
I am not
Strong,
Capable,
Beautiful,
Good,
Kind.
I'm not even
Decent.
All of this reforming
Of oneself
For others
Has changed me entirely,
Into a creature whom
Is unsure of it's existence.

I think that I have

Moved on,

Found someone new,

But how can I be sure?

How can I know that I am no longer

Aching for someone I needn't ache for?

I am Unsure.

But I think I'm done,

No more open wounds,

No more raw eyes.

I think I'm done,

I think I've found someone new.

And this time,

She found me first.

And this time,

I am not abandoned.

And this time,

Could be the first

Good time

In a long,

Long time.