please stop romancing cutting,
depression, eating disorders,
anxiety and suicidal thoughts.
those things are not beautiful.

it is not beautiful waking up
every morning wishing you
weren't here.

it is not beautiful having to wear
long sleeves in the summer to
cover up the scars on your arms.

it is not beautiful throwing up
in the toilet just so you don't
gain another pound.

it is not beautiful missing school
for a month just because you
couldn't drag yourself out of bed
to see daylight.

but you can be beautiful with
cuts and scars all over your body.

and you can be beautiful even though
you aren't too happy about your weight.

oh, and you're still beautiful if you haven't
socialized with people for a couple weeks.

and you're still beautiful even though you
blew out your 16th birthday candles wishing
you were dead.

you're beautiful, but the things that you have done to
your body aren't.

I see a lot of glamorising of eating disorders
everywhere

what is so glamorous about sticking your fingers down your throat
using laxatives because you cant cope
starving yourself

there is nothing glamorous about eating disorders
they're mental illnesses which need to be addressed

I have an eating disorder
and I can tell you this
there's nothing glamorous about this
not one little bit

I can't even bring myself to get off the bathroom floor,
Let alone continue as everything is normal.
Theres really no point to go anywhere else, im just going to end up back here again within the next twenty four hours.
Seems like i spend more time with my fingers down my throat, than anything i've ever tried to accomplish.
I don't know why im like this.
I use my fingers to rip out the secrets that im too afraid to tell,
But once they're out in the open i banish them as soon as i possibly can.
I don't want to be like this; i don't want this to control me.
Little by little i've let it creep into my life, and now its the only thing that occupies my mind.
'What are you going to eat, and how much of it'
'How will you get rid of this, you can't just leave it in your stomach'
Those are just a few of the things that i hear in my mind on the daily.
I said i was finished with this, but im not sure.
I  just don't know if I'm ready to abandon this and all my hard work.

Everyday is a constant battle between me and my mind
And i don't know what it will take to free me from this never ending ache
Because i don't have much time left on my plate, there's always something to do, something to be said.
It leaves me wanting nothing more than to just be dead
I just want to sleep for a thousand years, maybe then when i wake up i wont be covered in tears.
Maybe then i will be happy, content with my life.
But until that day comes, im just striving to get by

You ask me, what anorexia is like.

It's like slipping or twisting your ancle without anyone seeing, no one to help you up.
You sit until someone comes by, they help you up, but after a while you slip again.
This time your sitting in mud and slowly sinking into it.
And when you're two feet into that hole, a person comes by and tries to help you since your anvle is hurt.
But you're afraid they'll fall too so you ask them to leave.
You start to crawl out and finally get up, but slip again.
You fall down in that hole again, and this time you beoke your entire leg.
It starts raining and the hole grows deeper.
It's 5 feet deep now.
One of your well known friends comes by and tries to help you, but ends up throwing you a shovel.
But actually you start to like your hole, you take contact to people, who also fell into a hole.
There are sites on the internet, some shows how to get the deepesr mist perfect hole.
Other shows how to get up.
But you're sad, and you like your hole, so you try to get that deepesr one.
You want to win this, you wanna show everyone who called you weak that you can get the deepest hole in the world.
But when you're 20 feet under ground, and everyone starts to notice your hole.
Everyone is willing to help you.
And suddenly you have 20 shovels, and 20 stairs.
But you can't decide wich one is better.
*That's what being anorexic is like

Poets don't shed tears, they just spill ink.