I stand in front of the mirror that I threw aside last night. I see the broken glass shattered in the corner of the frame. I look at my ribs and my pale face is bleached with fright. The only thing I can think is 'who can I blame?' Not myself, no. It can't be my fault? You wouldn't do that to yourself.
I see a plate full of food. I try to finish, otherwise that's rude! What do I really care about? My well-being or someone else's? Oh shut up! You are just being selfish!
I can't eat this much, I might be sick, but I must or I will be sick. I don't think I can eat anymore. But you don't understand! You need to eat more.
What I need to do is stop losing this weight. But it's hard, and I can't concentrate. this needs to stop before it's too late. it's me, nobody else who I hate.
It's me. I'm the one who's wrong. It's me. I see it now. It's me. This has gone on too long. It's me. Yes, I will admit I'm trying to commit.
I'm slowly dissolving, getting smaller. And I am getting no fuller. Sometimes I honestly feel like an animal in a zoo. Je suis presque disparu.
This poem is based on me and my current weight struggles.