i try to look in the mirror before i leave but i barely recognize the face staring back. my skin looks too thin for my face and my eyes are not as bright as they used to be. i like the way my ribs ****** through the skin of my torso.

the party is loud and slightly sweaty and no one seems to mind much that i’ve barely said a word and i don’t mind either but i want to go home, home with my soft bed and the quiet dark of my room and home where i can be alone. a girl i haven’t talked to in months nudges me and yells over the music God youre such a ****** with her wide teasing smile as i eat a tortilla chip and she doesn’t know that all i’ve eaten in the past six days is half of a small apple, in tiny precise bites

she doesn’t know

outside it’s cold and sharp and i wish i’d worn a longer dress or a coat and the only one out there is james who sometimes stares at me a little too long. he’s smoking as usual and he passes it without a word. i’ve had a few too many drinks and soon we’re laying in the damp grass and im crying and i admit how hungry, how ******* hungry i am, and he’s very quiet until he kisses me helplessly and i can’t stop crying

it’s been over a year now and food is not my enemy anymore. we’re not friends but i can eat now and i let myself buy lunch a few weeks ago and i laughed along with everyone and didn’t think much about the calories passing my lips and it felt good

baby steps, baby bites

everything is becoming okay