I am destroying my body
With every purge I take
And the sickest thing is
I am perfectly fine with it.

I cannot keep a relationship
short flings are all I have
tainted with infatuation
kissed by lust's wet lips
but commitment scares
the living **** out of me.
However
I am not afraid of being alone
because the isolation
the sadness
the depression
burns me up and
keeps me rolling along.

Finding excuses to binge and purge
Is ever so easy
I have to use the bathroom anyways
I am lonely
It is my only escape
Finding reasons not to
Is a whole lot harder.
Everybody makes mistakes
I have people who love me.
I am enough
Am I enough?
I just keep looking for reasons to say
*Yes, I am.

Disappointing you
as only you can see me through
is the only thing I'm mildly good at
I hope if you think of me, you forget that
so I take this razor to my skin
I let myself feel the sting
regretfully, I let this blade
dance it's way across my wrist
my worries start to fade
finally, I have my fix.
in love, in lust, in hate
it carves a phrase
**** up
is what it reads
dear god I miss the old me
the one who would never harm herself
the one who was not a living hell
the one who would never punish a child
for the way her body was defiled
something that was out of her control
but she refuses to let go
so now she falls to her knees
as her every emotion bleeds
from every gaping hole in her body
her tears sting her arm so harshly
for as she loses her will to fight
an angel goes back to heaven tonight.

She wears a sad smile
Flaunting a ruby necklace of tears
Her sobs are her sweet song.
She tried to cover up her scars
But now they are her bracelets.
There was a time in which
She tried to change herself for others.
But now
This is her new reality.
She knows that she is pretty
It is all because of her honesty.
They say the candid shot is the lovliest
And her candid shot is wry and skeptical
She is a cynical beauty
And she couldn't be happier with herself.

I am a royal **** up.
I fall apart regularly
It has become normal
For tears to well
For my heart to swell
For I live with too much passion
And not enough practicality.
I'm sorry for being your daughter
I'm sorry for being sick
I'm sorry for destroying this family.
You are ashamed of my life
And I am too.

We mourn the loss of
My joy
My happiness
My dreams.
But wait,
Foul play is suspected.
The persons of interest include
The bullies
My daddy problems
My assault
But the real culprit who stole all my passion
Goes by these aliases, but his name is
*Depression.

I just can't handle this
I am a sinking ship
Going down with every hit I give and take.

Who is this person?
Tears flow so freely
I cannot control this emotion
I am in limbo

This constant motion of
Having to be enough
Has suddenly come to an abrupt halt.

With every purge
I lose a little bit more of my control.
With every drag
I lose a little bit more of my sanity.
With every cut
I lose a little bit more of myself.

So who am I?
Who am I?
Who am I?

.   .   .

"I am not
Me"

I use pain for inspiration.
Because something that is terrible at face value
Can be used to create
Beautiful masterpieces.

I laid my dead roses out today
In the middle of my lawn.
A white picket fence surrounds this old house
But the walls only know
The tirades
The bullying
The eggshells I have walked on for years
The things I held inside.

I built up so much anger
In this condensed body
Knowing that this is wrong.
I could never speak up
For when I did
You told me everything I said
Was a lie, was pathetic.
So I stopped trying.

Still, you wonder why I block you out?
You're a hoax, a sick joke
And the life you gave me
Is the punch line.
But I don't find it very funny anymore.

You fed the buds inside of me
Poison, in the place of water
Insults, in the place of nutrients
Darkness, in the place of sunlight

You never allowed me to thrive
But you chose to remain unaware
That you were one of the factors that killed me.

So, I let it all go.
I'm letting you decide
If you will nurse me back to health.
Now all of my dead roses lay
Right beneath your feet.

She never was a swimmer
Although she's had plenty of practice
Drowning in her tears.
Her face, it's beautiful
The streaks glisten like crystals
And her smile is as pure as gold.
From the outside
They would never be able to tell
That she looks for happiness at the bottom
Of a bottle of Pinnacle.
They would never know
That her family is falling apart
That her ex-boyfriend left her for dead
And no one was there to save her.
To them, she is a star
But stars are just ***** of gas and fire
With unstable compositions
Always running the risk of an explosion.
She's just running around
Trying to get some answers
Trying to understand herself
And how she let this happen.
She needs a cushion
A pillow
A blanket
Or maybe someone else
To fall smoothly and swiftly into
As she completely breaks down.

Living in twofold
Is not all it's cracked up to be.
Having the life ****** out of you
Becomes the daily
Because you are so busy
Trying to hide your secret from the world.
Whatever it may be,
It is destroying your body.
You can barely walk
Barely stand
Barely breathe without terrible pain.
The stress has never crippled you so much before.
You can't go on like this
Yet there is nothing that can stop it.
So two options are laid out before you
Either defuse the fire
Or go up in flames.
Now there's a riddle for you
To spend the rest of your life trying to solve.

Holding on and breaking down
happen simultaneously.
You grasp at straws
as your hands are pried from the handle
you once had on life.
You are walking
and yet you go nowhere.
Gravity's strong hands will drag you
to the bottom of the sea.
It's inevitable,
the downfall and the events leading up to it.
You make a promise:
I will not __  for  __ days.
You keep it,
but how long are you expected to continue?
If you do it again,
you will be met with sharp remarks
and criticism aimed to destroy you.
The physical and emotional wares
of resisting your only coping strategy
are far more detrimental than you imagined.
You abandon the thing you know
and can almost understand.
You swear you are giving yourself ulcers.
If you are doing the right thing,
why does it feel like the earth
is crumbling beneath your feet?
Like you will never get better
and stop feeling sick?
This is more than you anticipated,
can you hold your own?
How long are you supposed to fight?
Everyone expects you to hold these answers
in some secret, unexplored chamber
that you have never dared venture into.
In reality,
you will put these questions to rest
with experience and discipline.
It's all just part of holding on.

Keep your eyes on the prize.
You're losing yourself in cliches
As you try to find exactly that.
Who you are , what you want
How to get it
All of these ring simultaneously in your mind
As you step up to the plate.
You're strong,
But you need to be stronger.
You're smart,
But you will only get ahead
If you get smarter.
These are the lies you have been fed.
That you will always be inadequate
And you will never be enough.
Now it is wrecking every area of your existence
You stray from your old friends
Your grades are out of your hands
And your burned out disposition tends
To be a hurtle for your failing body.
Nobody even stops to ask
"Are you alright?"
Because they don't want
To hear the inevitable answer.
You start to feel the heat
But you are denying that there is a fire.
So keep your eyes on the prize
I really hope it's worth
Your beautiful demise.

I hate you
I hope you get hit in the face
With a brick
And finally, lastly, conclusively
*******.

I feel it coming on.
It attacks my system
With every weapon on the front line.
It wreaks havoc on my gut
When I am stressed, when I am hurting
Suddenly, my body starts to tingle
And it aches, and aches, and aches.
The pangs of panic and regret
Pierce their way into my midsection.
As my mouth begins to salivate
I know exactly what needs to be done
To make this pain disappear.
I excuse myself, neatly and politely
How ******* ironic
As I go to do one of the messiest things
I have ever done.
It's not emotional
At first
Just business as usual.
I close my eyes
Zone out
As I stick two, three fingers down my throat.
I feel the tension
As it begins to gag
Tighten, release, tighten, release
Until I can no longer breathe.
Tears begin to form
And I begin to cough, uncontrollably.
Finally, everything
All the sadness
All the lonely
All the anxiety
Is ejected from my body.
I sit on the ground
Completely calm, yet I am shaking
It is a similar feeling post-purge as it is post-cigarette
I lean against the stall
My knees pressed to my chest.
I am not sad
But I am crying.
Thinking
"What have I done?"
"How has it gotten this far?"
My legs feel like jelly
And my arms are heavier than I remember.
My head begins to roll back
As my neck is giving out on me.
It feels like I am going to lose myself
But somehow, I do not pass out.
I am snapped back into reality when
I hear someone come into the bathroom
I'm in public?
I forgot.
I walk out, emotionless and unaffected
I have done this so many times before
That I have a gigantic capacity for acting.
My body maybe cured of its physical traumas
But there is still an extreme feeling of nausea
In my heart.

I hear people echo
"I don't want to just survive
I really want to live."
But what if surviving is hard enough on it's own?
What if it takes every molecule of my strength
Just to get out of bed?
What if my past, and traces of it
Including those bits surrounded by ashes
Infect every crevice of my being?
How can I
"Live life to the fullest"
If my body and my mind do not want
To let me live at all?
Perhaps the worst part is
I have no desire
For any Prince Charming
Or dark, mysterious man riding in on a stallion
To come swoop in and save me from myself.

Why did you take me off medication?
I said I was feeling better
You thought that meant ready
But just because the symptoms begin to dissipate
Does not mean the disease has been cured.
I never used it as a crutch
But now I start to feel as though it was one.
Something to keep me balanced
To keep me at a flat line
Rather than constantly spiking up and down
Left and right
In different directions.
I don't think a person can just stop being
Manic depressive and anxious.
PTSD doesn't simply
Go away.
That mood disorder, similar to bipolar,
That I cannot pronounce does not just
Fade out over time.
It is always there, it is just managed.
Now with no medicine
No therapy
No help from those who are supposed to be there for me
What am I to do?
I purge
I drink
I smoke
And that is the best of it all.
Shortly after I begin to sink.
You may think I am being melodramatic
But this is the life of a self-medicating person
Who has nowhere else to turn.

People can make their own choices
Conservative, liberal, independent
Who gives a flying ****?
Just don't take away my rights
And don't take theirs either.
When Jesus said not to judge
That meant you too.
Save the unborn babies,
**** and violate the women
Logical, completely.
I guess all that I'm saying is
Stop being an *******.

Knives in my knee
Needles in my wrist
Everything feels wrong
My knuckles turned white
So I stopped holding on.

I have never been
The apple of anyone's eye
Because I'm too prickly and bitter.
The object of affection
Because I am not shiny, nor do I
Sport bright and valuable colors.
Anybody's "one and only."
No,
I have been one of many
Used, abused, and stepped on
And now they wonder
Why I cannot handle commitment?
Well, I will tell you why.
If a guy cannot see past
The thick skin I wear
The bare face I show
How my hair is a little too frizzy
Is he worth the time and effort?
If he
Cheats on me
Tells me I'm worthless, ugly, nothing
Is obsessed with my
Location, activities, intentions
Why should I bother?
It seems that
Every time someone seems like
Maybe they care, maybe they are interested in me
It's a lie, a misconception, a scheme
So now, I guard my heart and mind
Keep myself closed, shut off, shutdown
But my body?
Oh, I'd give it away in an instant.
Sometimes, to get ahead in this society
You have to be their definition of a ****
In other words
Look like a lady
But act like a man.

Blood taints the water
That I crave, that I am supposed to drink
Your love is a poison
That I wish to smear
All over my face and hands.
Stain them red
As they have been cut by lust's sharp blade
You are my addiction
Your white powder, I will inhale
I will breathe your smoke into my lungs
Coughing and spitting up the life I left behind
I strip bare of the things that keep me innocent
Make love to the sadness that returns
With the sound of your name, your voice
Blisters caress my skin
As my vitals shrivel up inside me
I will let you, I beg you to
Incinerate me, darling
I miss our dangerous adventures
Incinerate me, darling
*So we can fall for each other again

"What are your parents like?"
He asks me, seriously as he plays the piano
I let the sweet noise embrace me
Before answering
"My mother is quiet
But she is one of the most caring people I know."
He smiles that radiant grin
"You must get it from her."*
I shoot him a sarcastic smirk
And he knows exactly what that means
"And my father..."
Hm, what should I say about Daddy Dearest?
Family problems aren't exactly a turn on
Should I outline the fact
About how he is a big reason I began to purge?
Should I broach the topic
Of my fear of gaining weight and eating sugar?
Because he tells me I will get fat
And acts like nobody can love a fat girl.
Should I bother mentioning
That he holds my sister on a pedestal
And sees me as a lost cause?
So I respond, calmly and sincerely
"He's great."
And we laugh, enjoying my "perfect" life
Marching into our pseudo-sunset
As I hope secretly, silently
That he never asks about my family
Again.

Have you ever been a disappointment?
Feeling the sadness crawling up your spine
Dissipating like a disease
Following you like a shadow
A tremor in your voice arises
As they try to crack you like a code
Break you like glass
Have you ever been a disappointment?
They ask you questions
About your rebellion spree
You lie through your trembling teeth
They don't love you, they never did
All you are to them is your past.
Have you ever been a disappointment?
You're not size two
Your smile's a little too crooked
And your hair isn't straight
The boys, they don't notice you
And if they do, they make fun of you
My middle name is rejection
And it rolls off their tongues quite nicely
Have you ever been a disappointment?
I have

Whenever I do
What they suggest in therapy
I ***** my friends over.
They say
Do something for yourself for once
But whenever I try
I am being selfish
In someone else's eyes.
And so
I allow myself to crumble
To self-destruct
But as long as I don't disappoint anyone
I feel just fine.

Circle, circle
Evil and monotonous
Everyone around here does the same **** thing
Day after day
Sit in a cubicle
Make babies, program them to be
Your little robots
To grow up to be
Real life mean girls
Or homophobic jocks
The kids whom you could only hope to be
Or the ones you hated.
Living in a world
Where no teenager needs to work
Everyone gets what they want
Daddy can buy you a car, a house, college
The whole **** world, have it your way
You buy drugs, throw huge parties
Because you can
Your sense of entitlement sickens me to the core
So when someone different comes along
Someone who isn't on the "Barbie Diet"
Someone who doesn't wear heavy makeup, or Hollister size double zero
Someone who doesn't live in a palace
Someone who has to work if they want things
Other than necessities
How do you respond?
Shun, backstab, gossip
Wishing they would care
At least, that is what I have experienced
In the magical world of Suburbia

thank god for the battle
between me myself and i
i've been dancing with my pain
drinking with my demons
sleeping with more than just a little
teenage angst
making out in the back room
with none other than depression himself

i have
so many beautiful things surrounding me
but they **** me
strangle me
smother me
suffocate me
under false promises
broken pretenses

a lover's war
more than a quarrel
a battle to the blood
breaking down to the gravel
am i making love to the devil again?
simply because he
holds me, consoles me, relieves me
of all the problems
he brings into my life
over and over again.

The green eyed monster
Is flaunting a little black dress
She's seeing red for you
And now she's blushing, pink and rosy
Because everyone can see right through her.
You make her feel like every color of the rainbow
She'll shine for you
Because you keep her from fading to grey

For two people
Who have dealt with
Eating disorders
We talk about food
More than anyone
I have ever met.

I'm sorry that you're way too good for me
You're like a New York City boutique
And I might as well be Kmart
You could have anyone
So why would you choose me?
I'm not blonde, I'm not skinny
And I'm no princess at all
Yet, you treat me like one
You are perfect for me
And I'm so wrong for you
I can't help but think
That this is all too good to be true
We are a cliche dream
A fairytale in the making
If I am Cinderella
I hope the clock stays at 11:59
Forever.

No one begins purging
In hopes of becoming an addict
In hopes of falling from grace
In hopes of having every bit of control
Stripped from your being
Caused by the one thing
That you hoped would give you control.

I started
Because everything was being taken away
I was out of coping skills
And I needed to get a handle on my life again.
The stress was unbearable
And still is.

I did not expect
That I could not stop
That even if I wanted to
Holding my meals down would not only
Present a mental challenge
But a physical one as well.

My mouth waters when my body wants to purge
Everything I eat
I think of how it will feel coming up.
I have lost friends, have isolated myself
My voice has suffered
My grades have slipped
My emotions are not in my control
I do not sleep through the night.

Who is this person
Or lack there of?
As if I was not already a vacant ruin
Of a once pleasant human being
I have now managed to be the reason
That she is losing everything she ever loved.

I have evolved due to the pain of this world
Or that is what I would like to believe
But what if, maybe
I have not changed at all?
Perhaps
I have always been this way
Perhaps
The thought that
I could keep every meal down
Was an illusion
Am I a prisoner of circumstance
Or a product of my own mistakes?
I simply do not know.

You blame me for it all.
Everything you have been through
All of your failed attempts at perfection
The fact that your family is falling apart
The reason why I am not your description
Of what a woman should act like.
You think I should be submissive
Well, I am not so prim and ******* proper
Sorry I do not fit the bill.
If a guy even looks at me
You rush in like a blood-hungry wolf
Thank you for the protection
But I don't need saving.
Thanks for the expectations
For preparing me for "the real world"
But I know what I want out of my life.
So stop picking at nearly healed scabs
And move on with your own life.
Because this child of yours
She has run away with herself.
She is a little too loud
A little too rowdy
She wouldn't have it any other way
And neither would her friends.
The reason she is never coming back
Is because you pushed her too far.
Maybe one day you will regret
Everything you claim that you are not at fault for.
Boy, are you wrong.

How provocative can I get?
People always tell me
My brain and my mouth don't connect.
I have a good head on my shoulders
Or so they think
And an unlucky case of
"Foot-in-mouth" syndrome.

The awkward first impressions are the best.
I'm pretty good with adults
As long as they can hold a conversation with me
Long enough to break the ten foot-thick ice.

But oh, I'm smart
That's what they call it now?
******* my life up
Throwing everything that has been given to me away
For a boy, a dream, a utopia?
That's smart?
I think not.

Sexcapades never go so swimmingly
With men ranging in age
A mouth like a cannon on me
Spewing curse words around authoritative figures
Never leaving anything to imagination
Being too blunt
Speaking first, thinking later?

They call me provocative
As if it is a problem.
Well, if I'm a problem
Then count me in.

I found you one day
unassuming and shameless
and I liked this innocent boldness I saw
shining through your face

You are my glimmer of hope
my beacon of light
when the darkness consumes me.
you see my blackened soul
and thaw my frosty heart
the way that no one else can
or ever could.

Why do I allow myself to feel this?
with other men, the initial thought is
I must stay guarded
don't let them in
hurt them before they hurt you.
with you, none of those thoughts enter my mind.

I am scared that you will be scared of me
but I allowed myself to show
you the ugliest parts of me
and yet you still tell me I am beautiful.

Somehow,
you do not think I am a basket case.
you are the only person I have ever met
who makes me believe that I really can get better.

A man came knocking at my door one day
just after I had prayed
for someone to take my life from my grasp.
He walked so seamlessly
there was a smoothness
and yet a carelessness about him
like no one I had ever met before.

Decked out in black from head to toe
he stood out from the others.
"Take a walk with me"
he sneered through a sinister smile
keeping a cynical eye on me.

We strolled along the river
and he held my attention
as if it was his own child.
I did not notice as people began
to jump off of bridges
switch out poison for alcohol
because he had my mind in his hand.

Once released from his trance
I looked around
shocked at the things I saw.
No one was left
no one but him and me.
While unnerved by this fact
a strange serenity entangled my body.

This man, his name was Death
and he did answer my prayer.
He removed the situation from me
rather than the reverse.

That evening, he said
"Go play little girl,
and show the world that
Death brought you life."
But there was no one left to show.
No one to tell.
Death taught me a lesson:
be careful what you wish for.

And as if it were meant to be some kind of cruel joke
he left gold for me in his boat.

"Don't purge"
they say
"It only makes it worse."
Oh, if only they knew.

That rush,
that physiological sensation
that accompanies the mental one
is all I need to breathe.
So why must it be wrong?

The calming motion
of sticking your fingers down your throat
until you gag
until you cannot breathe
until you feel that acidity
crawling up your throat
as a demon emerges from Hell's depths.

It is as if you are allowing a well-kept secret
an abundance of pain
to be released
to meet catharsis.

So necessary,
from an inside perspective.
So beautiful,
from an artistic one.
So cold,
from any sane person looking in.
They can never understand
how crucial it is in fighting the breakdowns
that plague my life under stressful circumstances.

I know,
it is hard for you to believe
or comprehend.
But this
painful yet pleasing obsession
is keeping me calm, keeping me okay.
And, quite possibly,
keeping me alive
month after month
week after week
day after painful day.

Can you see my tears?
Welling behind hot and swollen eyes
They push and ****, hoping to escape
But I will not let them.
They are eager little monsters
And it takes all of my strength not to burst.

Can you hear my screams?
In the middle of the night
After drunken decisions
And hungover memories
That's when my flashbacks hit the hardest.
So, I shriek
But it falls on deaf ears
They either are not audible
Or people choose to overlook my
Lonely disposition.

Can you ******* air?
It is creeping and crawling
Drenched in sweat.
Salty and metallic flavors collide inside my mouth
As if some sort of blood began to flow
In one place that I wish it would not.

Can you smell my fear?
They say in dogs it reeks
A certain poignant stink.
In me, what is the scent?
Does it seep through my skin
And secrete out of my pores?
I feel myself trembling
I am not able to escape.

Can you feel my pain?
I want to send you signals
Tell you I am not okay
Or am I okay?
I just want to know
I just want to hold on a little longer
I just want you to notice
Please tell me, just once,
"We can talk if you want to."
And mean it.

They cannot see these
Classic and obvious signs.
They do not know.
They do not care
They do not  **listen.

I remember
Your laugh
Your smile
Your iridescent glow
You were stainless
You were special
Moreso than I could ever be.
We lost you
5 months and 3 days ago
So why do you still
Saturate our dreams, thoughts and feelings?
Always and forever
We miss you.

I had someone
who should have been a friend
ask me today
"Can't you just have a normal relationship
for once?"
My response
though choppy and unrehearsed
was
"I mess around with who I want to.
That is 'normal'
for me."
If I do not judge you for being abstinent
why do you insist on criticizing
my choices?
Plus, I do not know
when you got to decide what is 'typical'.
***?
Yes, I lost my virginity at fourteen
and shockingly,
I am regret-free.
However,
sometimes I do wish
that some sense of normalcy
would return to other areas of my life.
I wish I could remember what it looks like again.

I've always hated hospitals.
White walls, plain and bare
With those glaring, unforgiving linoleum floors
What am I doing here?
I am not ill
But my parents always used it as a threat
When I panicked
Or when I was just upset as a young child.
It has been embedded into my brain that
"This is where the bad kids go."
And I'll just get passed from doctor to doctor
Because no one wants to handle me.
So now the stench of sickness
Smells more like a jail cell.

A sharp edge takes courage
But dull blades sting more.

Addiction.
no one quite knows
how to define it.
for one in the throws of this.
is it Beautiful
or is it Vile?
Selfless
or is it Vain?
one can only speculate.

Recovery.**
another riddle
with a hint of ambiguity
that a person can only
hope to determine the meaning of.
Painful
or Freeing?
Pointless
or Meaningful?
i can never tell
if it is only here for a season
and leaves just as easily.
just as swiftly.

as for now
i am still a prisoner, held captive
to this paradox.

Glassy eyes
Slurred speech
Delirium
Or something of the sort.

Brush my hair out of my face
I want you to kiss me
But I don't.
I'm not sure how I feel
And yet, I do not stop.
Why do I set myself up for regret?

We're ready to explode.
It's written all over our
Morphine mouths
******* cheeks
****** voices
That resonate silently.

We're so wasted
This youth
This generation
Kids these days
Or, that's what they call it.

It's all our fault, too?
Last time I checked,
You will reap what you sow.

Every cause has an effect
And for every action, a reaction
Risk may yield reward
And so I risk my life for you.

With the
Desire the purge
Craving to cut
Need for escape

And the
Opportunity to drown out
My body's grievances
Why wouldn't I?

I'd be lying if I said
I haven't done it
I didn't have have weak days
My body doesn't ache for that
Lovely and disgusting
Physiological quench.

And yet they tell me
I'm lazy
I don't do enough
It doesn't matter that
I'm on my feet for eleven or twelve hours at a time every day
I'm working my *** off
I'm still recovering from an eating disorder.
But no, it doesn't matter
I still have no right to complain in their minds.

But wait**
I am a pretty good secret keeper
Sometimes.
Is it possible that
I am too talented at keeping my emotions locked away?
Maybe, just maybe,
They just don't *know.