"Well...,"
              she said, unwell.
"Well... surely...,"
              she continued, unwell, unsure.
"Listen," he said.
              But nothing.
              Just some rain tapping a window out of boredom.

Mommy I'm sorry I manipulate you for,
The alcohol I feel I love more,
And Daddy I'm sorry I pretend I'm naive,
About all of my bad deeds,
I tried so hard to stay dry,
But the rain it pours inside,
I'm drowning in my own self,
I'm suffocating with my mental health,
And I try, I try so hard,
To be who you care for,
The girl who laughs just cause she can,
Who asks for hugs before bed,
But I'm not her anymore,
And I'll never be moving forward,
But really I'm just someone,
Who feels way too much at once,
I cry at night when I'm all alone,
Dancing with my demons on my own,

Please don't hate me, I couldn't survive,
I do that enough for myself, and I can no longer hide,
That I don't have a problem with substances,
That I can recognize when I've had enough of them,

I'm so tired of pretending it's under control,
This feeling of alcohol that sings in my soul,
The cough syrup that makes my shaky thoughts,
Become shaky feet, legs, and hands,
I'd rather feel physically ill,
Than continue to be mentally unwell,
So I will continue to veer off the tracks,
And spin out of control, it's just a fact,
I have no sense of when to stop,
Please don't make me stop,
It's so hard to be in my own head,
Every day it's like a death,
I die a bit, a piece of me fades away,
And I'm sorry to inform you, to say,
I'm not okay, I'm just not alright,
With myself I will continue to fight,

Please don't hate me, I couldn't survive,
I do that enough for myself, and I can no longer hide,
That I don't have a problem with substances,
That I can recognize when I've had enough of them.

A fashion designer has defended models who were labelled as "gaunt and unwell" on Facebook.

Andrea Moore's I AM range is sold at Farmers, and an image from its current campaign was posted on that company's Facebook page on Friday.

The picture features Chiara and Norina Gasteiger, who are twins represented by Clyne Model Management. Farmers customers did not react well to the now-deleted post.

"They so look gaunt and unwell. I'm really disappointed," Newshub says Anna Webster commented.

"You cannot look at these girls with their bones sticking out and believe that they are a good role model for a family store," Jo Austwick wrote.

"I have enough trouble with body image arguments with my daughters without these images being depicted. They do not look healthy."

Moore said the imagery had never been intended to cause offence, and that she felt for the Gasteiger twins, who have worked with the brand for three years.

"The twins are actually healthy, fun models who are busy university students... We love working with them because of their sense of self-worth and uniqueness as twins," she said.

"We have been in touch with the models and they were most upset by the whole thing. Fortunately, they have received a lot of support from their peers.

"The campaign was about preppy grunge, print with an edge. [It was not] about promoting unhealthy body types [or] anything else," Moore added.

Farmers posted the following statement on Facebook after deleting the I AM image:

"Dear valued Farmers customers! We appreciate you taking the time to send us your comments and concerns on a recent post for I AM. Please know it is not taken lightly and we in no way mean to promote an image for women in NZ to follow that could be regarded as unhealthy.

"We understand that no two bodies are the same and we always seek to show a range of body types throughout all our advertising. These images were supplied by the brand Andrea Moore as part of a wider campaign and were published by us. We will endeavour going forward to work closely with all our partners to ensure an appropriate image is portrayed.

"Thank you once again for your valued feedback."

Clyne Model Management have been approached for comment.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/one-shoulder-formal-dresses

I am quick to cry and to anger
and people think I'm strange.
They don't see how hard I try to control it,
I know I'm seen as deranged.

Emotions can be overbearing
and it's difficult to stay quiet
when someone upsets me
It's simply not easy to hide it.

I guessed for a long time that the issue was with me.
But I thought I could watch maybe learn their technique.
For keeping a cool head when things get heated.
Instead of losing it over nothing and feeling totally defeated.

I was wrong it turned out.
I don't have breaks I have border as in
borderline personality disorder.

I got a diagnosis
and was incredibly afraid
that people would treat me like someone
who'd contracted the plague.
While I wasn't right,
I wasn't totally wrong,
mental illness is unfortunately
still mostly ignored.

If I was unwell with a headache,
people would ask
'Are you okay?'
'Here I've got Panadol Actifast.'
But when the ills
In the mind and I say
'I'm feeling down'
9 times out of 10 people get freaked out.

So it's tough when you're shamed
For having a disorder
A lot of normal people suffer
So could your son or daughter.
So next time you hear someone say
'I'm feeling down.'
Do me one favour
and please,
just don't freak out.

It's hard enough already dealing
with this day to day
without having friends
turn their backs and walk away.

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

He's her sickness, with him she's unwell
She's his drug, without her life's hell
He's her nightmare, with him she's frightened
She's his sweetest dreams, without her he's burdened
He's her despair, with him she's grieved
She's his hope, with her he's fulfilled
He's her failure
She's his success

Your shrill, yet oddly pleasant sound, echoes loudly down the long corridor.
I try to ignore you as the jaunty sound clashes with my melancholy mood,
Yet I find the notes and melodies cling to my mind like tissue stuck to a shoe,
Hanging on for it's own amusement,
Ignorant of my desire not to be teased nor humoured at this anxious time.

I feel I shouldn't like your racket,
My naïve ears and young years sense, not only an inappropriate comedy in your sound,
But also a daunting undertone,
Adding to my sense of having been plunged into deep icy waters.

Perhaps your music soothes those who are leaving,
Your high happy notes providing optimism and assurance of recovery,
Or of a restful sleep enveloping dear ones.
For me, however, at the point of no-return in my pilgrimage,
I hear only the low notes,
Out of time with my quickened pulse,
And lending a foreboding soundtrack to my slow deliberate steps.

But you play for no pay,
Busking in this hospital,
Doing good both night and day.
Yes, you are well known in this place,
Admired for the hours you commit to this space where lives can hang in the balance,
And where your instrument by day is a sharp sleek scalpel,
Invasive in its desire to alleviate suffering,
Your steady, practiced hand rehearsed and well versed in the methodically planned procedure of a surgical concerto.

But out of hours your instrument of choice lends you a voice,
Allowing flourishes and improvisations.
But were you aware that for visitors like me who visited repeatedly,
The clarinet would take on a significance beyond other instruments,
Taking me instantly back to bittersweet memories of visiting my family,
As, in turn, they aged and became unwell and recovered and became unwell again.

Now I am older and a little wiser,
I reflect and ruminate on this period;
My memories of family are more than just hospital visits,
And I wonder if I could ask one thing of you?
Why no Rhapsody in Blue?!

WOMEN ... Raise Children ... !!!
******* Have ... " Kids " ... !!!    
      
WOMEN Are Forgiving ... !!!    
******* Have ... STINGS ... !!!    
      
******* Will Say ...    
      
"Men aren't nice to them !' ...    
      
But Here's The THING ...    
I'm ... " Wondering .... " ........ ???    
      
Do Their Remarks ...      
REFLECT ... Who THEY ARE ... ?!?    
      
When They Look At Themselves In Their ... " Looking Glass " ...      
And Aren't Propping Up Bars SHOWING OFF Their *** ... !?!?!    
      
See ...    
******* Will Say I'm Being SEXIST ... !!!!!!!!    
  
While WOMEN Will ... THINK ...    
And Then ... Make Their Case ... !!!    
      
See That's The Way I Like to ... " PLAY " ...    
Use Wordplay To Keep ******* .......................... AWAY ....... !!!    
Who Choose To ABUSE Rules of ... " The Game " ... !!!    
      
LIKE DON'T EXPOSE A Man In Zones ...    
Where Friends Are Close ...    
Because He Chose To Tell You ... " NO " ... !!!    
      
OR RUN YOUR MOUTH About His Moves ...    
If You STILL CHOOSE To GO DOWN ... " SOUTH " ...    
And Then CONSUME What He SHARES AROUND ... !!!?!!!    
      
See THAT's THE STUFF I'm Talking About ... !!!    
WOMEN Show LOVE While ******* Show CLOWNS ...    
How To DO THEIR ACT And THAT's Just FACT.    
      
That's Just MY VIEW of The Things They Do ...    
Because They PROVE Through The Moves They Pull ...    
      
That ******* Pull TRICKS ... !!!    
While WOMEN Get KICKS From RELATIONSHIPS ... !!!!!!    
      
Where LOVE's ... THE KEY ...    
NOT S P R E A D I N G ... L I P S ... !!!!!    
  
Just To Get A FIX ... !!!    
Or For LUXURIES And CASH MONEY ... !!!!!!    
      
******* ARE GREEDY And Are Willing To ... "Deceive" ...    
For Shopping Sprees That ... FILL Their Dreams ... !!!    
      
WOMEN Want To FEEL That Love IS ... REAL ... !!!!!    
While A ***** Will INSIST .... "Love DOESN'T EXIST !" ...    
      
Well That's Where THEY And I AGREE ... !!!!!!!    
My Mother Displayed TRUE LOVE To Me ... !!!!!!!    
      
NO WOMAN or ***** Will EVER GIVE ...    
THAT Kind of Love Until They're MUMS ... !!!!    
Then Their Love RUNS To Daughters and Sons ............................    
      
Because THAT LOVE Is For ... THEIR BLOOD ... !!!!!    
      
NOT Husbands or For Their Boyfriends ...      
Unless Your Blood's THE SAME As Theirs ... !!?!!    
      
TAKE Those Words IN And Let Them ... SINK ...........    
Don't They Make SENSE When You Start To THINK ... ?!?    
      
Or BETTER Still ... ASSESS ... !!!    
And REJECT Them Less ...  
Than ******* Have Friends ... !!!!!!!    
      
HELL YES I'm BACK TO Them AGAIN ... !!!!!!!!!!    
Cos' ******* Nowadays Are ALL OVER The Place ... !!!    
      
And ARE ... FAR TOO MANY ..... !!!    
While WOMEN Have Reduced To A Minute Few ... !!!    
      
Leaving The Scales ...  
Somewhat ... UnsTeadY ... !!!    
      
THIS PIECE Has Given You ... Some Clues ...    
As To Why We Have MORE ONES Than Twos' ...      
      
WOMEN On Their Own Are ALONE At Home ....    
While ******* Now Roam Like Mobile Phones ...... !!!!    
      
Texting THIS ... !!!    
And ... Texting THAT ... !!!    
      
USING The Phone ...    
To SET Their ... " TRAP " ... !!!    
      
NO Dialling Tone Or Telephone RING ... !!!    
      
Just Waiting Time .....    
For Their Reply .................................................................­­....    
      
... NO MORE Talking ... ???    
      
It's Their NEW TOOL ... !!!    
To ... Play It Cool ....................  
And ACT THE FOOL ... !!!!!!    
      
"I'll text him when he least expects,      
if what he sends doesn't cause offence,    
i'll give him ***, that he won't forget !"    
  
But If Your Reply DOESN'T Fall In Line ...    
TRUST ME Guys ... THIS IS How It Goes ...    
  
Her Texts Then Take A ... DIFFERENT Tone .... !!!    
She Makes You ................................................. WAIT .......    
And Your Phone Goes ............................................... COLD.    
Now You Either Go Into ... RECOVERY MODE ... !!!!!!    
Or Try To RING ........ She AIN'T Answering ...... !!!!!!    
      
Then You See Her Lips .....    
SLIPPING THROUGH Your G R I P ....... !!!    
      
UNLIKE ..... YOUR PHONE ...... !!!    
      
******* Like To Play These Types of TRICKS ... !!!    
But Then COMPLAIN When They're ON THEIR OWN ... !?!?!    
      
Fellas TRUST IN This ...    
******* HATE Themselves ... ?!!!?    
They're Quite .... UNWELL .... !!!!!!    
      
And Most NEED SHRINKS ...      
While WOMEN Are SANE ...      
      
Well SANER Than .... Them ... !!!    
******* Who Have Got PROBLEMS ... !!!!!!!!!    
      
******* ARE INSANE ... !?!  
    
WOMEN ... USE Their BRAIN ... !!!    
      
******* Dish Out PAIN ... !!!!!!    
WOMEN Aren't So VAIN ... !!!    
      
Therefore WOMEN Tend To Be ...    
MORE .... " Plain Jane " ....    
Than ..... SNIFF ******* ..... !!!    
      
DON'T Let Their SHAPE ....    
Make You TAKE The Bait ......................................    
      
Make THEM ...............................................­....... WAIT ....    
BUT DON'T PLAY Games Tell Them STRAIGHT ... !!!    
  
EXPOSE Their Traits ...      
And When You *** THEM Make It GREAT ... !!!!!    
      
So That They HATE To SEE Your Face ... !!!    
Because They're Sent Back To THAT PLACE INSIDE Their Brain....      
      
YOU KNOW YOUR BED For *** AGAIN ..... !!!!!    
      
SEE WOMEN And ******* Are NOT The Same ... !!!!!    
Their DIFFERENCES ... DISPLAY Their Ways ....    
      
So WATCH Them BOTH And WATCH Them CLOSE ... !!!!!    
      
TAKE Mental Notes So That You Know ...    
When To Be SMOOTH And Make Your Move ...    
DON'T BE Her FOOL or Her Footstool ... !!!!!    
      
Be SHREWD And PROVE ...    
You've Been WELL SCHOOLED ... !!!!!    
      
And AVOID The Traps And GAMES They Plan ...    
SET Your Agenda And STICK TO IT Fellas ... !!!!!!    
      
REMEMBER A ***** .....    
Loves DRUGS NOT Hugs .....      
      
While WOMEN WANT HUGS ...    
And Their DRUG Is LOVE ..... !!!!!!!!!    
      
That's Just MY VIEW It May NOT Be ... True ... ??????    
      
But Whether It Is I've Said Some Things ...    
That'll Bring Some ... TWITCHES ... !!!!!    
      
To .............    
      
........... " Women and ******* " ...............

personal journal musings from last week...*

Stopped in at my neighborhood pub last night
  a couple of pints, some word exchange
Colorful place on a perfect Spring evening
  people on tap, constantly spilling in and out

The place is bustling and packed
  loud and dynamic
Sound flowing on open air
  drifting in from sidewalk patio and out to beer garden

Luckily nab a lonely stool near the entrance
  girl sitting kitty-corner around curving end of bar
Casually we cover topics from her mac 'n cheese
  to wind chill generated by ceiling fans

Conversation is suddenly confiding
  prior night's end-all fight with her live-in boyfriend
Obvious need to talk to someone neutral
  bartenders are busy, so it's me and we do

She's come seeking emotional sanctuary
  awaiting his departure to some event
Unhappy with her role in the argument
  unhappy with the person she has become with him

They'd intended to go ring shopping
  as recently as last week
She now looks forward only to the comfort of
  quiet, pajamas, ice cream, dreamless sleep

Upon leaving, she twice asks that I promise
  to be here if she finds no solitude and must return
This is no request...more of an appeal
  alone in privacy is one thing...alone in festivity another

I promise twice - I'll be here
  she doesn't return
I sincerely hope that she's well on her way to
  an ice cream induced pj slumber

              Less than an hour later...same bar stool

Pleasingly boisterous bachelorette party arrives
  staking claim to a nearby parcel of floor
Numerous "excuse me" squeeze-throughs  for drink orders
  rendering me a semi-familiar bar obstacle

One reveless wedges in, questions me
  what color underpants do I have on...don't recall
Insists that we check...dark bluish-grey
  too bad...she was hoping for purple to match her own

Impishly waiting long enough for my mind to stew
  she finally reveals the query as part of a formal interactive checklist
I apologize for not being more daring in spectrum
  we laugh, nevertheless...strike one

Eventually exchanging pleasantries with another
  a more subtle approach, but the inquisition repeats
Here we go again...Batter up!...Red?...very sorry...strike two
  I'm feeling of no value to this effort

Red offers me a redeeming pitch from the list
  someone must serenade the bride-to-be
I accept and get to meet the veiled celebrity
  she wears an engaging and jubilant aura

Gauging the atmosphere, I decide against romantic
  opting for a song that playfully questions the sanity of her choice
From my heart, I sing the chorus to Matchbox Twenty's "Unwell"
  It goes over very well and I avoid strike three

She and I hit it off, we discuss her wedding plans
  discover our roots are in the same part of the city
I'm rewarded for my musical contribution
  allowed to buy her a shot of Patrón...the checklist dwindles

Now partaking in the excitement of their celebration  
  an honorary addition to the large but exclusive group
My joyous new acquaintance has us take a picture together
  a snapshot of this special occasion to which I've somehow been privileged

A train of waves, goodbyes, thanks, and good lucks
  trails the party as I watch it crawl to the next establishment
In the hushed cacophony, I return to my thoughts
  a fantastic diversity of emotional experience within two short hours

My elbows on the bar in sober contemplation
  counting crows ...one...two...juxtaposed
A contrast of simultaneous realities
  somberly lamenting vs vibrantly anticipating

Reflecting on the beauty in such contrasts
  that serve to define the images of our lives
I finally come to the inevitable conclusion
  it's time for another pint...of ice cream

I have not been well lately
But I have a secret to tell you
It’s a success story: my most secret success
You see, I’m very skilled in crafting holes
And I’ve punched a massive hole
Right through the middle of my life

Please, don’t mistake this accomplishment for the result of talent
This is a skill and it takes practice to master
I went to college and learned to turn theories and ideals from basin to sieve
I learned to critique everything hopeful
And punched a hole right through the heart of hope
I honed my ability to close out creativity
I built a track down which to guide concrete linear thoughts
And I learned to use said thoughts as a battering ram with which to
Knock a hole in the barricaded door to dissatisfaction

And, though this skill is often practical
As you know, one cannot walk around wearing an open hole
So, a corresponding skill has successfully emerged
In parallel with nurturing voids
I have learned to conceal each and every hole
Sometimes with a thick canvass and
Sometimes with a paper-thin veneer
I may have learned to wrap a package
And to tie a bow
With the express purpose of packaging
The broken gift of life
Full of ugly holes

And, now, all that is left to complete the perfect ending to this success story
Is to grow old in a neatly kept apartment
Filled with the unseen haunts of relationships neatly hole-punched and
Filed in a hidden mental cabinet
Next to a night stand where I keep my phone and glasses
And across from the bed
There will be a glass trophy case
Full of trophies denoting various acceptable successes
But, just between you and I
The largest trophy denoting the largest success
Will be a lifetime achievement award
Bestowed for hollowing out what could have been
A beautiful life.