The angel of death kissed me and my mouth sputtered out rusty crimson blood
It slid down my cheek and dropped vertically off my chin
Down to the ground,
Hitting hard against the concrete floor of this cell
I watch it spread out and soak in
Little dribbles hitting down again now and then

I hear the steel doors shake
Piercing rattling in the hollow hall
I hear a shriek

My hair stands on end
Pricking my neck
Goosebumps rise
Pushing the air away from me

I am cold
Cold skin and a cold heart
It beats so slow
Maybe it will stop soon, altogether
Oh god I hope so

When I first met you we were young
I was warm and still had a light that shone
Now, years later
My light has gone dim and my hands gone cold
You tried to hold me and I think you noticed

We laid in my bed that day
You traced your fingertips along the tundra that is my lungs
Frozen in my rigid ribcage
You listened to the ever fading hum of the iceberg that is my heart

You tried to tell me you love me and all I said was Why?
How can you love a girl who's veins are frozen
Who's hair and nails and could slice the ice
Who's heart could freeze your very own

You have your own light and want to share, the trouble is i do not care
Of course I love you, so by all means I can not let you lose yourself trying to save me
Others have tried and always left
Maybe I'm selfish,
but I don't think my icy heart can survive being melting anymore
You see, the trouble is I like it cold
The frigid breath about me is the only thing left that I can feel

And I would rather feel cold, than nothing at all

Recovery
A long road
Tough, but
Worth traveling.
Even the worst days in recovery are better than the best days encompassed in an eating disorder.

Body appreciation is important. Learn to love the skin you're in. Yes, i posted a picture in which I am in my underwear. What more is showing than me wearing a swimsuit? Nothing more. Why is it okay for men to walk around without a shirt on but considered unacceptable and pornographic for women to be seen *******? Who created these rules? Who decided it was okay to discriminate against women? I don't ******* want to be "sugar & spice & everything nice," I want to be my own person. I am powerful. I am mad about stereotypes and "boundaries" placed on women. I don't ******* like the color pink, why is that a problem? I like blue, but I was raised in pink tights and pink dresses. I am breaking free. I am being my own unique person. A powerful woman.

I think about burning my bridge with heaven a lot
Crave that sweet release
Drip drip
Blood trickling
Down my arm, my leg
God can't help me now
I'm draining
Draining myself of pain,
I don't feel pain anymore
I don't feel anything
It's euphoric really, the sight of blood soothes me

White sheets,
Stained from late nights
Razor's edge,
dragged along, free of fright
Press harder
Go deeper
It doesn't hurt anymore

I thought I could be an Angel
This is how I died
Jumped and realized I cannot fly
(All along, I knew, my wings would give. I cut them too)
(I did it on purpose)
Can't you see?
The sight of my own blood,
It soothes me

God Almighty,
who the **** are you?
A savior who did not save me
You didn't even try
Just like my parents
"Oh, she's fine"
But now comes the day
Today they will have to say-
"Oh, she's dead"
I want to pound it into their ignorant heads
SHE'S DEAD SHE'S DEAD

Her own mind killed her
Now she's free
Somewhere floating in the sea
The sea of dead girls
Not above, but deep down below
Heaven would not take me
Ah...
Hello Hell,
I know you would come for me.

To take your own life is to sin
But how? Why? I did not win
The devil did
And I praised him
You kicked me out and he took me in
Wrapped me in razors
Swaddled me in sin

How does it feel
To be beaten at your own game?
You built me and I put you to shame
*******
You ignorant man
Save me? It appears as if you no longer can
This girl, she's dead
Burned deep down into the ground
Blood flows from me like a raging river

And then one minute
It's gone
Not a drop is left
I have been drained
Not a live nerve left to feel the pain
My blood is gone, just like me
Left somewhere floating in the sea
The sea of dead girls
Not above, but deep down below

I always knew I belonged in Hell.

Sometimes it's so hard to eat and so hard to breathe and I feel as if I'm being suffocated by my labels and drowning in these disorders.
I'm going no where, no where but backwards and sitting at this stand-still. This frozen train station smack dab in the middle of my brain, yanking me back and forth back and forth between happiness and hellish fate. Some days I spy a train off in the distance, it's usually sad. I haven't seen my health train come around in a while.
Some days I hop on the backwards train and I travel to my favorite old undying feelings. Self-loathing and negative body image. There's no lunch served on that train.
I haven't been on Happiness since maybe mid-January or so. My thought is that it got somewhat sick of me and decided it needed a break, ended up realizing how much better off it was without me and staying gone.
I'm alright, I bleed sometimes and I cry a lot. I don't eat a lot.
But I'm here? I'm here waiting in this ******* train station in my brain and I swear at moments I'm ready for recovery but then when I catch a quick glimpse, back down my hole of self-pity I go

Help me, but don't help me

Isn't it sad
the only romance I've ever had
is with my razor blade?

There are two halves to my story

Half of me wants to get better. To function properly in this modern world. Right now I feel like an old computer, they tried to fix me twice but I shut down and was thrown out. I want the gleaming screen back, the light in my eyes. Half of me wants to please everyone and say YES I AM RECOVERED. Half of me wants to shout it from the rooftops that I do love food and I don't hate my body.

But

The other of me cuts all it's wires. It allows the people utilizing me as a computer to type unbearable things and never backspace. Leaving painful words permanently stained like a tattoo. Half of me wants to cut so deep I begin to bleed and never stop, till every ounce is gone. I know I'm empty and all this is is ******* people pleasing because I HAVE TO BE perfect. I HAVE TO do the right thing and everyone says this is what's right that recovery is better so I play along, trying to be perfect. But in my head in order to be perfect you have to be content with yourself and eating disrupts my peace to the point where I do wish to die.

They all tell me my future looks bright but in my eyes I'm already a ******* failure. What's my purpose? I spend all my energy trying to destroy my body and they spend all their's trying to fix it. What I am, is a waste. A waste of time, of money, of love and waste of any help I've ever received. I don't have hope that this will ever go away. Because right now it's living in my bones my heart my brain and every one of my ******* blood cells and it swears to me it's never leaving. I ******* hate this but ignoring it and fighting against it only makes me hate myself.

I've been hiding, I've been hiding
But it's all built up so far I feel I'm about to burst. I'm so sorry for everything I've ever put you through I'm sorry for wasting your time. Because it is precious, and my siblings and others deserve it far more than I do.

I've had a plan since day one to get out and destroy myself and I guess now is the time it plans to surface.
There's nothing left of me anyway, just fat and vile emotions of hate towards myself. I can't love and I can't paint. I can't talk and I can't barely ******* function without medical support. I don't deserve to be here, I don't deserve your attention and the world has suffered enough having to tolerate me for so long. It's time for me to go

I am no one
I am the blank page that sits in front of you as you rack your brain raw for things to write about
I am the *** of coffee you force yourself to make every drab day you drag yourself out of bed
I am the rain hitting your windshield on your way to work, obstructing your view of the world through ***** glass
I am nothing and I am
No one

When can we call a cease-fire?
When can I raise my white flag?
We were never at war
I think all failed to see
The sadness in us
Wasn't meant to be
Ive gone back again
To writing with pen
Emotion and thoughts
Jumbled up on the page
Oh when can you,
Raise your white flag?
Boys aren't supposed to
make girls fight themselves
Friendship is meant to be shared
And hate, well I'd say,
Is not welcome here
Feelings come and they go
Mine are long gone
I don't mind if yours are
It's okay if they stay, I won't
Get in the way.
I wonder if you, please
Would like to make,
Peace with me?

She opened the cabinet
Took the pills,
one too many would seal the deal She broke a glass
And took a piece
She held it in her pearly teeth
She spat it out and began to spin
Piercing her own porcelain skin
Crimson drips run down her arm
Pooling at her feet like rain after a storm

She plunged into her sadness
Bricks tied to her feet
She wanted to drown the demons
She gave in to defeat
She thought it was the only way out, who cared if she didn't come back?
She tried to destroy the demons
And by this destroyed herself

It's a drug I guess. Like nicotine to a cigarette smoker. They're addicted, never wanna let it go. That's how I feel about my sadness. You see, I'm addicted. Breathing in smoke is better than not breathing in anything at all and so is the case with my sadness. I suppose what I hate most is the calm after the storm, the numb after the pain, the feeling of feeling nothing. To me, being sad- is better than being nothing at all. So yes, I love my sadness. I love it with a passion, and just like a smoker with his cigarettes. I'm addicted.

Happiness

A word that expresses how I feel now
How I feel now expressed by the word
Happiness

A form of self-love is self-care
Self-care quite a form of self-love

Happiness
Recovering from an eating disorder.
A form of self love.