Happiness to me is looking so fragile, so tiny
Hollowed out
Saggy jeans
Sharp protruding hip
bones that make me grin when I peek at my reflection in the mirror
Twig like legs
The visible spine on my back once covered by
flesh that has since disappeared
The glorious collar bones how they symbolise control of the self, superiority, victory
Counting my ribs when I lightly breathe in
The veins on my hands how they encourage me to keep restricting

The voice embedded in my head with her constant whispers - Just a little more and you'll be perfect - she lies It's never enough
The stares, how I love to hate them... the more stares the more sick I look proof that perfection is within my reach

I am forever feeling faint, drained, disoriented and always near collapsing
Hunger gnawing away inside of me
And yet this feels like success

The shackles keep getting tighter  the older I get
Binding me and blinding me with

My disorder beats me into nothing
Sleep is no longer an escape, Even in my dreams it's still there... Tormenting me

This treacherous debilitating
illness
My mind is not my own anymore
It took everything from me to the point where most nights I am unsure if I will wake up in the morning
I'm still here, fighting the
fight and that counts

The elusiveness of recovery
The complication of it
How I never will, recover
I will always be haunted

Warped fleshy perceptions
Dangerous methods
Grave consequences