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 Jan 18 peyton
Rose
Peaches
 Jan 18 peyton
Rose
Peaches and cream
All just seem
A bit too sweet

At a run down BP
The man in front of me
With rotten teeth
Is purchasing
Marlboro reds, coffee
And a chance to win the lottery

Gets what he needs,
Then goes on with his deeds
Walks by me
Like a blind man
Who cannot see
Maybe he'll be the winner

Now I'm next in line
Cashier asks "how are you?"
I say fine
They don't care if that's a lie
All I buy
Are peaches
To feed my hunger
Peaches for dinner

I devour
Counting down the hours
Days until I eat again
Slowly becoming more sour
Losing all my power
I hide like a coward
Benith moldy skin
Rotten from within

Same as a peach,
I wither and decay
Who is to say
tomorrow is another day?
 Jan 18 peyton
Evie Richards
shes slipping through my fingers.


i wish she could see how beautiful she is
that she doesn't need to disappear
for me to try to hold her.

i wont let myself lose her.
shes too young
too smart
too funny
too kind
and im losing her more every day.

i wish there was anything i could tell her
to make her see she is loved
no matter what
no matter how much of her there is left

i will always be there
and i'll never let her go again





cause sweetheart,
i cant watch you die.
 Jan 18 peyton
uselace
Across the table
my grandpa asks me why
i don't eat cinnamon toast crunch anymore.
The last time i saw them
i loved it so much
that he tried it, and got hooked
but now i don't touch it.
And i don't know how to tell him
why,
how to tell him
that the thought of all that sugar
paralyzes me.
So i just sit with my corn flakes,
avoid his eyes
and hope he doesn't notice
how desperately i wish i could eat it.
cinnamon toast crunch is objectively the best cereal
 Jan 18 peyton
uselace
Eighth grade
i texted the suicide hotline
in band class
Hoping for something to hold on to
while i considered going home,
and just slipping away.
Three years later
i sit in photography
messaging an eating disorder hotline
and praying i won't slip further
than i already have.
Strange,
how history repeats itself.
shout out to neda lol
 Jan 18 peyton
Gracie Anne
Yesterday I looked at myself in the mirror
And although I tried to take the advice given to me by my therapist
I was unable to find a single thing I might even just tolerate about myself.
Instead, my mind and heart raced each other, trying to see who would win the prize of defeating me
as I scan my naked body for each and every inconsistency and insufficiency.

You see my first memory of self hatred comes from a place most people could not predict.
Imagine me at six years old standing in the shower, so proud of myself
For finally graduating from the bathtub I had associated with childhood.
I had just finished reading “Falling Up” by Shel Silverstein.
And out of the more than 400 poems by this poet one stuck to my brain
Like peanut butter on the roof of my mouth after eating a PB&J.

Now if you’ll forgive me for getting off track for just this moment
I’d like to read you this poem entitled “Scale.”

“If I could only see the scale,
I’m sure that it would state
That I’ve lost ounces...maybe pounds
Or even tons of weight.
‘You’d better eat some pancakes-
You’re skinny as a rail.’
I’m sure that’s what the scale would say…
If only I could see the scale.”

If you’ve ever read a poem by Shel Silverstein you’d know that each of them
Are accompanied by an illustration.
This particular poem is positioned next to a drawing of a person standing on a scale
Unable to see the number because their stomach juts out just far enough
To block their view of the information that scale is providing.
I remember looking down at my naked body
Only to realize that i also could not see my feet.
My childish, growing, prepubescent tummy obstructed my view of my toes.
And I remember thinking for the first time, “Wow, I am fat.”
And that same feeling has followed me throughout these subsequent years.
Throughout elementary, middle, high school and beyond.
My dysmorphic perspective has been a shadow of which I could not shake.
And try as I might, deep down I knew that this was my fate.

I started restricting what I ate starting in 6th grade.
-I counted calories lost and gained and measured my size by the tightness of a tank top.
I watched videos of people like Eugenia Cooney,
and inspired myself through the photos I saw of
Emaciated girls kept alive by feeding tubes.
I was 12.
-I was diagnosed with Ee Dee En Oh Ess in the summer of seventh grade.
EDNOS is a catch-all eating disorder characterized by the characteristics you lacked
To be able to gain the coveted name brand DSM-5 diagnosis of anorexia.
-This I considered to be my failure.
To not qualify because of a lack of being underweight was all I needed for motivation.
So I doubled down on my efforts to lose weight and by the age of fourteen
I had finally achieved that which I so...craved.
I was the best. The skinniest. The one people whispered about in the halls and I had all the attention I could ever dream of getting.
And I was happy.
Wasn’t I?

Skip ahead to now and you will know my comeback story.
Seven years of weekly therapy, numerous psych ward stays, and one near-death experience
I can finally say that I am at a stable and healthy weight.
I continue to despise my body, but now I have the tools and mechanisms to be able to fight off the demon I had nicknamed “Ana”.
-And while I still cannot say that I truly love myself the way I am,
Slowly and steadily I continue to improve.
And I hope that one day I can look into that mirror, take in all my flaws and still be able to tell little 6 year old Grace…
“Sweet girl, you will be okay”.
 Jan 18 peyton
Tianah Fisher
A paper with ink that every student hates to do
It’s so annoying when you cant get it
because the teacher didn’t explain to you how to do it so you don’t get it,
but the smart girl in your class said every one gets it,
so the teacher shuts up, but on the inside you want to turn around and scream
“No ones as smart as you!”
but you don’t because you don’t want to be a bother,
but as you sit in your bed you think what the frig
I should have asked,
but in stead of doing my homework I go on something called Facebook
where everyone writes about other people and there problems there having
that no one in the world seriously cares about
so you scroll till you see a fight that is pretty pointless,
but you still get the popcorn and read everything they said
because its better then doing any thing else,
but you see that girl that deals with anorexia
and start to think why does she do that to herself she’s skinny,
I know the mirror can be cruel sometimes,
but she’s beautiful,
she may look unhealthy
and in science instead of looking at the skeleton you look at her
because you can see every bone in her body
because the words people say affected her,
she was healthy,
but people think you need to be **** perfect to be friends or just for them to like you, so she carries this thing that eats her on the inside in pain
with the words that are whispering in the halls,
but then she has that one friend that doesn’t help
she’s to busy wishing for selfish things and too blind to see her friend is dying in front of her,
but instead of saving her she’s wishing for everything
like that new car
and losing weight
and her hair to be longer
and what outfit she’s going to wear tomorrow to impress that guy she has a crush on
and the girl thats been neglected by everyone and everything next to her in the mirror hearing her rant on and on about this she’s wishing I want to be like her,
I want someone to love me like that,
I want friends she always says
I want and I bet it’s the girl in the back of the classroom,
that shy one that sits alone at lunch time
looking around hoping someone will come sit with her
and want to be friends
but it doesn’t happen because everyones too selfish in there own worries and problem to notice their fellow classmates could be crying out for help in front of you but you don’t care because your stuff is to important to help someone else.
 Jan 18 peyton
Emily Ward
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
I wrote this when i was in a unit recovering from anorexia. The main reason for it was to highlight to people who are pro anorexia, the real and disabling effects of this illness. To highlight that it is not a fashion statement or a 'fad' diet.
 Jun 2020 peyton
Victoria
This is not a breakup poem
This is not me liquifying when I open my eyes in the morning
This is not my furious animal tearing at my chest to control the thrashing inside
This is not the bile that burns my throat
And this is not the hollow in my abdomen

This is not a breakup poem
This is not your static sobs and back-breaking voice cracks
This is not your acid apology
This is not your deadly uncertainty
And this is not the jagged shards of yourself

This is not a breakup poem
This is not the blood bursting from my scraped elbows and knees
when I went head over heels because you promised you would catch me
This is not my pavement-smacked stinging palms
This is not the gravel in my wounds from when you let go too soon

This is not a breakup poem
This is not your whiskey bottle on the shelf at the foot of my bed,
a gentle reminder that now I have nightmares alone
This is not the toothbrush and the hair gel and the speakers and the things that have more staying power than you
And this is not a breakup poem

— The End —