There is a voice in the back of your head that whispers,
"This used to be easy."
Well, it started as a whisper.
Lately it's been so loud you swear you can hear the echos in the hallway back to your bedroom.
"You didn't even feel it."
You close your eyes, ignore the pangs, pull your blankets closer.
"Remember how they praised you?"
Try not to be so aware of the way your body presses, the way your clothes press into your body, ill-fitting.
"You're failing, you used to be so good."
You realize you've started making a mental list of everything you've eaten today. You're not sure when you began. Everything looks so much bigger in your memories.
*"This used to be so easy."