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I sleep with hunger beside me. Not because the house is empty- the fridge hums softly in the dark, full of things I could eat. But the mirror waits. And I cannot face it without feeling sick in my own skin. When I look at myself I don’t see a person. I see something wrong. Something too wide, too heavy, too much. My jeans started slipping down my hips. My mom noticed. “You’ve lost weight,” she said- just a small comment, the way someone notices the weather changing. So I looked again. The scale said eleven pounds gone. Eleven. But the mirror didn’t care. It stretched my body back into something bigger than before. So I make quiet deals with hunger. I eat only when I have to. Only when people are watching. Only when not eating would be too obvious. Most nights I let the emptiness stay. It sits in my stomach like a promise- sharp and patient. Because somewhere in my head there’s a thought I can’t **** that maybe if I shrink enough, if I erase enough of myself, if I learn to live inside the ache- one day the mirror will stop looking at me like I am something to hate.
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Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 4:53 PM UTC
The mirror is the verdict
I sleep with hunger beside me. Not because the house is empty- the fridge hums softly in the dark, full of things I could eat. But the mirror waits. And I cannot face it without feeling sick in my own skin. When I look at myself I don’t see a person. I see something wrong. Something too wide, too heavy, too much. My jeans started slipping down my hips. My mom noticed. “You’ve lost weight,” she said- just a small comment, the way someone notices the weather changing. So I looked again. The scale said eleven pounds gone. Eleven. But the mirror didn’t care. It stretched my body back into something bigger than before. So I make quiet deals with hunger. I eat only when I have to. Only when people are watching. Only when not eating would be too obvious. Most nights I let the emptiness stay. It sits in my stomach like a promise- sharp and patient. Because somewhere in my head there’s a thought I can’t **** that maybe if I shrink enough, if I erase enough of myself, if I learn to live inside the ache- one day the mirror will stop looking at me like I am something to hate.
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Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 4:53 PM UTC
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