You tell me
I’m not that skinny
My BMI tells me
I’m way too skinny
You tell me
My waist isn’t that small
The internet tells me
My waist is small enough for modeling
You tell me
Everyone has size 2
Research tells me
The average size is size 12
You tell me
I’m not enough
Yet too much

I tell myself
I’m not enough
Yet too much.

I know that sometimes you feel a loss when you remember the salience of your bones when your skin was as thin as paper and you even struggled to drop on a chair.
And I know that from time to time you suffer from the absence of those days when you could look at a filled plate without touching it and call this effort a meal.
And I know you often think about those afternoons when you looked so dead that you held the secret hope that someone would come to resurrect you.

But the truth is, you seem to have forgotten the days when the bruises on your skin scared you and the days when you wiped your ****** mouth wondering if you were really becoming more beautiful. Those days when you were so cold that you couldn't touch anyone without startling them and those days when you couldn't stand up without seeing a multitude of spirals swallowing the world before your eyes.

The truth is, you forget that no one came to save you.

And I realize that sometimes it's still hard and that you’re still fighting, but I can not help but notice that bright glow back in your eyes and how your gestures are firm and your cheeks colored by life. And even if you break so often that you wonder why you should bother to keep rebuilding yourself , let me tell you that putting the pieces together is much more beautiful than the mere thought of you drowning yourself in a flood of alienating negativity once again.