The marks upon my skin scream at me. Telling me I'm worthless and ugly and fat. They tell me things like I'm better off dead.

   The blood reminds me that I'm human, that I am still capable of feeling things. The blood reminds me of my heart that I try so hard to no longer feel.

    The hunger makes me feel hollow, as if I could blow away in the wind. As if I were paper thin.

    The mirror makes me cry. It shows me my flaws and imperfections. It shows me everything I try so hard to hide. It shows me my scars, my stretch marks,and my sunken in eyes.