People always tell you that it can get better
What they neglect to tell you is how much worse it gets
Before the better part comes
In every eating disorder novel,
You can always perfectly pinpoint the moment
The protagonists steps over the line of unwell
Into well
This whole 'recovery' deal sounded good enough at first
I get to eat Luna Bars,
I have positive quotes all over the place,
I meditate and do yoga all day,
I somehow reach the a level of Enlightenment
Usually reserved for Buddhist monks
And I don't have to live with a ******* eating disorder anymore
I bought a recovery journal
To talk back to my mental illness
But so far my depression has taken control of the pen
I bought a adult coloring book
To help me de-stress
But I still only want to color a river on my wrists a crimson color

I keep thinking there's a way to be a functional bulimic
Or even better, a functional anorectic
A way that I can be recovered and enlightened and normal
And still dissect each and every meal
As if I was dealing with something ***** and impure
Is it still recovery if I can't fight the voices in my head?
Is if still recovery if I don't even try?
Is it still recovery if I still can't look in the mirror,
want the outside to mirror the chaos inside,
crave sunken cheeks and fallen out hair
That I want to preform a vanishing act right before your eyes
See my skin cave in, bones protruding
I used to think that eating disorders were about beauty
But now I realize they're about pain
And perfection and punishment
And I had to live through it to see that

I seem to never be able to do anything right
And my eating disorder was supposed to remedy that
I was good at self destruction
I was good at sitting at dinner, sipping diet coke
Feeling oh, so superior and smiling brightly
As I said that I'd already eaten
And begged my stomach pains not to betray me then
But now I've failed at having an eating disorder
And at not having an eating disorder
And I can't live anymore in this shade of gray
Coloring everything and ruling my thoughts
I don't want to be in "recovery"
I want to be recovered
Because no one tells you
How you'll cry through every single meal
How you'll see yourself grow in the mirror and not know
What's real and what's not
No one tells you
That an eating disorder never goes away
That you'll never diet again
That trying to lose weight in recovery isn't a good idea

The worst thing about an eating disorder
Is that there is no such thing as abstinence
Recovery is not one decision
It is a decision you will have to make
Every time you find yourself looking down at a plate
And at first, you'll have to pray to the gods
For indulging in the sins of being a human
But someday, maybe someday
Those prayers will go somewhere else

Hello my name is Anorexia
I will make you an obsessive freak
You will hate yourself
I will make you hungry and weak

I will turn your meat to bones
You will lose excessive weight
You must be super skinny
Food you must hate

Skinny is perfect
So your diet is strict
You live struggling
Because you are an addict

Do not eat breakfast
The scale numbers matter
Do not eat lunch
Do not get fatter

I promise to make you beautiful
I am your best friend
I will make you so skinny
Even if your life might end

Anorexia is not collar bones.
It is the smell rotting of flesh as you dismantle your body bit by bit.
Anorexia is not a thigh gap, it is your knees so weak they shake as you fall to the ground.

Anorexia is not self control. It is the feeling of utter hopelessness as your life tornados into a blizzard of nothingness.

Anorexia is not fashionable. It is your mother’s sobbing eyes as she sees her child dying
Anorexia is not 80 pounds. It is the weight of a thousand pulsing suns on your shoulders.
A thick black cloud in your mind, and rules spelled out like chains pulling you towards the ground.
No matter what measure of gravity that you have in this earth, it still hurts, it’s still real.
So to you 'pro anas' who so blindly say 'hunger hurts, but starving works' think before you act.
Suffering is an addiction, please do not harm yourself with this affliction.
- *Emily Ward

All that stupid poetry
Makes sense to me
Tell me everything
Lose your shirt
Like your dignity
Get an answer out of me
**** me with poetry
Inside
Like that pain
Behind your eyes
Tell me why
I don't
Or did
Or do
Mean anything to you
***** me
Over
**** me
Over

Push me
Closer
Tell me why you couldn't love me

But you could **** me

Over,

And over
Again.

Criticize
Fantasize
Tell me
Why

**** around
Don't make a sound
Choke an answer out of me
Lose your mind like your
Virginity

I can tell
You didn't give it to me

**** me with your stupid
Melancholy poetry

Tell me why you didn't love me

Tell me
Why
You do now
You can't have me.

I don’t know if I’m really losing weight
Or if my self image has just become
Even more distorted
Collarbones
Ribs
More pronounced
Stick out  
Thighs
Arms
Shrink
But is it all in my head?
Do I just perceive myself as smaller?
trying so hard
Not to take up space
I could live under my bedroom floorboards
And still have room
For you?

i've finally started to see
that being single
just means being me

single doesn't mean missing something

single doesn't mean empty
single doesn't mean one less
doesn't mean i lost something

i just gained myself
i just gained freedom


1≠0

1≠-1

me and you did not always equal two
sometimes it was more me carrying you

i used all those burned bridges
all that baggage
those tears
the broken glass
the stained sheets
the anniversary presents
that old t-shirt i took
all those sweaters too
even those socks i stole in the winter
when the snow soaked through my shoes

i took all the leftovers
from all those years
and i used them to learn

stacked up all those memories
used them to reach a new understanding

re-purposed old arguments
to make me a better woman

i stopped covering old scars
i let them remind me of how far i've come instead

i let the slight tinge of pain
when i see your face
remind me that my heart
still works
that my brain still remembers
and that's OK

getting over
and moving on
isn't feeling nothing

1≠0


moving on
and getting over
means trusting myself

making my own decisions
making my own mistakes
instead of cleaning up someone else's

it means standing on both my feet

instead of balancing on one

it means keeping myself warm at night
easing my own mind

it means taking care of myself
so that i can love me

it means looking in the mirror
and knowing i am beautiful
not waiting for the words to come off of someone else's lips

being single

means i have nothing to lose
and everything to gain

so no i am not lonely
no i am not bored

no i am definitely not looking
i am not searching

i have already found my partner
i found her the second you left me
by myself

i still find her everyday

my other half
is just myself being whole

i find my soulmate
every day without you

i find her in the subway
humming to herself on the platform
i find her in my morning coffee
i find her looking back at me every day
and every night
i find her staring at me through the mirror
and i find her in all those times
that i used to feel alone

being single doesn't mean i am singular

i am an infinite arsenal of strength
of hope and self-love

being without you
gives me more time to become me

and i think i'm going to love
this becoming
more than i ever loved
being with someone else

i don't need a relationship history
to define what i should be

i am writing my own **** book
and the heroine is me

i don't need a script
written by some husband-to-be

my life is not a fairy tale movie

it's a real, raw, documentary
and it's starring me

so i don't need
five star reviews
from past lovers and fools
to tell me how good my acting was

i don't need to act anymore
i don't need to fake it

i'm doing this for me
now and forever
and since you carry yourself
wherever you go
forever and always
is one promise
that i know i can keep

and if i do meet someone
who says they love me

well this time i'll love me too

next time it won't be 1+1=2

it will be 1+1= 1 +1
i'll be me and you'll be you

but for now it's just me
and i'm more than just enough
i'm plenty

i'm writing this because i need to focus
i'm writing this because i need to get it off my chest
i'm writing this because it's driving me insane
rather
i'm writing this because i don't know if i'm going crazy or if it's real
i'm writing this because i have a mile high stack of responsibilities with my name on it that i can't seem to get to because all day all i do is think of you.
so here goes.

i'm still in love with you.

scrap that.

i still think of you every day
i still feel your touch on my skin
i still hear your voice in my ear
i still catch myself pretending you're next to me
when i can't sleep at night

so what do you think?
am i still in love?

is this just the loneliness of winter in the city getting to me?
is this just desperation?
is this just having not been kissed in so long?
is this OCD? is it depression? is it my anxiety?

or is it you?
is it me?
was that why you left?

it doesn't matter anyway, right?


each memory of us replaying through my mind like a film with no ending
i spend each morning and each night waiting
for that final scene

i tried to force myself to think
of all the reasons we went bad
all the sour memories
bitterness
i could taste it on my tongue
cruel words
pouring out of my mouth
like hot oil
the tears
burning like fire from my eyes

but the laughter and the joy
keep coming back
oh god joy
i haven't felt that in a while have i

it had become a synonym for you

now i know that i'm fine
i have no trouble getting through

it's just the getting over
that's proven hard to do

so if someone could let me know

am i in love?

or is this a passing storm?

will i sink or swim?
should i dive right in?

I watched a movie
That comedically displayed
Suicide
And *******
Did I try to be offended
The whole time
But I feel like
For me at least
When you've been suicidal before
And you watch a movie
Like that
And everyone laughs
You learn to laugh along too.

And maybe
Some people
Could take offense
But that movie is a masterpiece

I learned somewhere along the way
(Maybe when I lost all faith in humanity)
That some things
You just gotta laugh at

The kids who make the most jokes about suicide and depression
Have often lived it
Dark humor
Is more or less,
Earned

And I think I've payed my dues.