The mirror always mocks me,
pointing at my stomach and jawline and thighs
and chest
Jeering at all the excess
toomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch
I keep repeating in my head
I’m too much.

The numbers on the scale feel huge
The jump from 116 to 113 to eventually 108
just felt like getting heavier
and i became weighed down to situps
not fast enough for food,
Until situps replaced food
but I was still way too much.

I never realized until now
how ironic
Being too much was making me not enough
i needed to be less and worth more
So I let situps take away sleep too
and eventually I didn’t allow myself rest
until my stomach was more exhausted
than the clock chiming midnight.

Instagram was my mantra
strapped in at my side
Wow she looks amazing
The next hour was spent researching dangerous diets
I let myself burn in the shower
To sweat away more
so i could be less
and I’d freeze in the winter
to allow the burning of calories.

For two weeks before every event
barely a morsel passed my lips
And my days consisted of Netflix and situps in my room
My snack was oxygen
And my stomach was a container full to the brim
Of nothing
As nonexistent as my happiness,
I was still too much but never enough