Denial.
I don't have a problem.
Of course I eat every day.

Refusal.
I don't need your help.
I eat enough to get by.

Ignorance.
This isn't a real disorder.
I can't bring myself to eat.

Pain.
I do need your help.
I haven't eaten a thing in weeks.

Ignored.
Please help me.
I think I'm dying.

Starved.
I asked for your help,
but it's too late now.

i'm standing by the marker stone
feeling wind upon my face
listening to the echoes from the grave
i feel the tears freeze on my cheeks
from the wind upon my face
as i listen to the echoes from the grave

I'm in a darkened corner of the graveyard
It's overgrown and not well kept
It's been a long time since a visitor
Has on these markers wept

I feel the spirits all around me here
I hear their voices on the wind
There is not a single angel here
These are souls who all have sinned

The grass has grown halfway up the stone
You see the name but not the years
It's been decades since any marker here
Has been whetted down with tears

I tend the grass and **** growth
Cut it back right to the ground
And except for ghostly echoes
I do not hear a sound

The man here was my father once
Though I don't recall his face
But, here he lies, worm food and dust
In this long forgotten place

The voices of other souls do float
Waiting for someone to show
But, their families died out years back
And those left, they do not know

I hear them as they call out names
Frozen snippets lost in time
And though I am on my father's grave
Nobody calls out mine

i'm standing by the marker stone
feeling wind upon my face
listening to the echoes from the grave
i feel the tears freeze on my cheeks
from the wind upon my face
as i listen to the echoes from the grave

Do you know what it feels like?
To imagine killing people, and then feel slightly guilty after thinking so
Do you know what it feels like?
To hurt yourself feeling you deserve it, and afterwards you regret it
Do you know what it feels like?
To be a lesser being, to not even matter that the world doesn't hear you screaming
Do you know what it feels like?
To want to rip your own heart out, to stop the feeling, to stop the pain, to rid the burden, and the heavy rain
Do you know what it feels like?
**To be on the outside of every single thing

I wake up and take a deep breath but most days it barely helps to ease the sharp stabbing pain in my heart.
I get up and stumble to the bathroom where I’ve written “Cheer up, Charlie” on the mirror to remind myself that all is not lost.
But when I get there, my head is hung too low to see the mirror and the words that are meant to support and encourage.
I get dressed slowly but not because I care about what I’m putting on.
Most days I grab something from the hamper and make sure it’s not too smelly.
By then my morning ritual is almost done.
I’m just missing one last piece.
I look up at the clock and take another deep breath.
Here goes nothing to start and get through another day.
With that breath, I slide the mask into place and walk out the door to go to work where no one will notice the pain, the sorrow, the brokenness.
The mask is my savior, my hiding place, my peace from all the chaos, for even though I know what it hides, I choose to be disillusioned by it.
I choose to see myself as whole, as untouched by you, as loved, as happy, as friendly, as…as me.
And for twelve carefree hours in my day, I can believe the lies I’m telling to the world:
That I’m ok even though you’re gone.
That I’m just fine even though the person who said they’d never go abandoned me too.
That I’m fit as a fiddle even though this ulcer is eating me from the inside out and I just don’t care because you don’t either.
That I’m happy living on my own even though I confessed to you all my fears of living alone, but that didn’t stop you from up and leaving.
That I’m strong enough to pick up the pieces of my broken heart and somehow put them back together even though I don’t even know where all the pieces are.
But then the end of the day comes and I find myself standing in the middle of my bedroom again.
I begin the evening ritual with dread filling every pore of my being.
I change into my pajamas, I brush my hair, I wash my face.
And then I take off my mask.
That last piece.
I fall on my bed exhausted from the pretense of the day.
I fall on my bed exhausted from holding back the tears all day.
I fall on my bed exhausted from missing you.
I fall on my bed exhausted from still loving you.
And then I cry.
I cry for the girl who never knew the life she dreamed for could be this painful.
I cry for the girl who thought she had finally found someone she could rely on only to find her judge of character was grossly wrong.
I cry for the girl who wanted many things from life but now would give all that up just to have you back.
I cry for me.
I cry for you.
I cry for us.
And then in the midst of my crying, I sleep.
I sleep with dreams of you and me.
I sleep with nothingness.
I sleep only for a short while as has become my habit.
And then I wake up and take a deep breath.
A deep breath and it begins again.
Did you know?
No?
Well…now you do.

I'm such a fool.
How can you be so cruel?
You took my heart ripped it a part.
With the words that you said,
Tore it to shreds.
I guess friendships just fall into the dark.
Never to be seen,
Never to be repaired. 
So much for all the times we shared.
I guess you won't always be there.

Please be gentle, because I am frail
If you're going to break me, I want it to count
I want to be a million pieces of shattered glass blowing in the wind
Spreading like the weeds you pluck from your garden every day
So when you're walking barefoot through the green grass
You may stub your toe and remember that I used to be more than just a thorn in your foot
I used to be the mirror you looked into every morning, laughing because there's no one you would rather see across from yourself
I was once a seed you planted in your mind
You will let me grow with beauty and might
And you will **** me out when I occupy too much of your space
Like a **** in your garden,
Please be brutal, so I can no longer be frail.