sometimes, i miss being sick.
i miss the feeling of my sharp ankles on the cold scale. the scale has been hidden from my judgemental eyes.
i miss the automatic caloric calculator, the blinding neon-sign. it's still there, always and impossible to ignore, like television subtitles. but i eat anyway.
i miss the feeling of my jeans becoming baggier around pencil legs. yesterday i had to go to american eagle to buy the same pair of ripped jeans, two sizes larger than what i was a year ago.
i miss the blue polka-dot Tupperware in the farthest corner of my closet that i used to erase the shame of feeling full. i can't have containers anywhere in my bedroom.
i miss the feeling of drinking so much water that my body becomes a shallow pool that my insides float in. i have a limit on the amount of fluids i can consume in a day.
i miss walking into a meal knowing exactly how to eliminate all of it, without question. now when i do behaviors i feel the shame of my whole family in my chest.
i miss karaoke nights. i can't sing any of the songs i did in the hospital. it just feels wrong.
i miss sitting in a circle of other sick girls and forgetting, for a moment. they're in different places all over the world, enjoying life as recovered anorexics.
i miss staying up late talking to my roommate and questioning whether recovery is worth it, or even possible. she's in california with her girlfriend, enjoying being alive.
i miss licking salt of ice cubes. everything is locked into safes.
but mostly, i miss you. you're gone.
.
Jan 6, 2020
Jan 6, 2020 at 1:54 PM UTC
sometimes, i miss being sick.
i miss the feeling of my sharp ankles on the cold scale. the scale has been hidden from my judgemental eyes.
i miss the automatic caloric calculator, the blinding neon-sign. it's still there, always and impossible to ignore, like television subtitles. but i eat anyway.
i miss the feeling of my jeans becoming baggier around pencil legs. yesterday i had to go to american eagle to buy the same pair of ripped jeans, two sizes larger than what i was a year ago.
i miss the blue polka-dot Tupperware in the farthest corner of my closet that i used to erase the shame of feeling full. i can't have containers anywhere in my bedroom.
i miss the feeling of drinking so much water that my body becomes a shallow pool that my insides float in. i have a limit on the amount of fluids i can consume in a day.
i miss walking into a meal knowing exactly how to eliminate all of it, without question. now when i do behaviors i feel the shame of my whole family in my chest.
i miss karaoke nights. i can't sing any of the songs i did in the hospital. it just feels wrong.
i miss sitting in a circle of other sick girls and forgetting, for a moment. they're in different places all over the world, enjoying life as recovered anorexics.
i miss staying up late talking to my roommate and questioning whether recovery is worth it, or even possible. she's in california with her girlfriend, enjoying being alive.
i miss licking salt of ice cubes. everything is locked into safes.
but mostly, i miss you. you're gone.
.
gah this poem kinda ***** but jesus Christ i need to put this somewhere i have so much GUILT about missing my ED but god ******* ****** i really want to relapse.
