Your skin fits you like a glove
Your legs and arms and fingers are toned
Your back curves toward your front
Your cheek bones already contoured

The pounding in your head as you walk
The fuzziness that clouds your brain
The emptiness that ***** your stomach in
The ribs that taper down your chest/sides

But you’re beside yourself when you stand up and black spots block your vision
But he runs his hand through your hair and pulls out dozens at a time
But you can hardly walk upstairs because you’re so out of breath when you reach the top
But your stomach bile is the only thing that gets expelled from your body
But you feel like purging the nothing you’ve been eating for three days straight
But you’re dying.

And for some reason
You can’t stop