It's all just numbers, isn't it?
Day by day,
Year by year,
Always counting.

Day by day look at the number on the scales.
Let the caloric calculator count until your head is filled with numbers.

Minute by minute count the seconds it takes for him to text you back.
Let the doubt and fear multiply until your head is full of him.

Term by term let a percentage on a piece of paper define your worth.

Don't we have better things to do than count?

They come out of nowhere
And can be as simple as a word
Intrusive, flashing voices
Who refuse not to be heard

These opinions with biased force
Keep ringing in my ears
Burning through my retinas
And searing their mark upon my fears

Like a thousand prickling itches
That cannot be soothed by a scratch
Stifling does not contain them
They constantly find new ways of attack

The mind is a delicate balance
Of inner and outer cues
A slight shift can cause a deafening
Where clear thoughts spiral to confused

I’m 5’1
I have blonde red hair
I wake up every morning and pray thanks
I do things everyday that I’m scared to do
I fight everyday against Anorexia Nervosa
I remind myself everyday my happiness is first

This is Me

Everyone feels it

The constant itch in your arms and legs that screams for just one more cut to be made

The distant buzzing that's always there but never clear enough for you to pinpoint where it comes from

The whispers that speak to you in the most normal of situations about how you're wrong and bad and only hurt those around you

The gaping emptiness that engulfs your heart and soul leaving you with nothing but a shattering corpse

The clawing in your throat that begs to feel just some kind emotion for once in your life

The way your stomach grumbles miserably for you to feed it but it can never keep anything down anyways

The dread that sits in the back of your mind when you realize you'll have to wear short sleeves

The sinking of your heart when someone jokes about harming or purging, about mentality or sexuality, or about taking ones own life

But everyone feels it

right?

I am a walking corpse---
A living dead girl.
It feels good to rot.

When I look in the mirror,
I enjoy the hollow figure.
It feels good to rot.

Some people don't like it.
Often, they fight it.
But for me---
It feels good to rot.

I feel alive when I'm dying.
I promise I'm not lying.
It feels good to rot.

Order 90---
I am hesitant to get my tray.
I sit down, open the box
And breathe in fumes of decay.

You are greasy, thick, and full of fat---
Everything that disgusts me.

My body hates you.
My taste buds love you.
My stomach can't stand you.
I have to get rid of you.

I hover over the water
Seeing my reflection.

White porcelain haunts me
As I take a deep breath...

And let the sickness consume me.

I paint daisy chains
On sharp edges
Roses in my hollows
Starvation in full bloom
Is lovelier than death
So I'll throw bouquets
On my own casket
And dig shallow graves
In my tummy
Bury yesterdays love
Resurrect today's doubt
At least skeletons
Are not afraid to die

I’ve lost 5 more pounds.

“You look so good!”

With every compliment I feel heavier.

“You’ve lost so much weight!”

Tomorrow I won’t eat.

“I’m so proud of you!”

I’m so hungry.

“It looks like you’ve lost more weight..”

I did, but I won’t admit to it.

“Are you eating?”

Yes, but I won’t say how little.

“How did you do it??”

Trust me. You don’t want to know.

You're worthless.
You can't even go a day without eating.
Even when you do you stuff your face just to puke it back up.

Why don't you just end it now?
You're ugly and no-one will ever want you.
Much less want to be with you.

You think that we made you tired?
That we are what's making you sad?
No. You did this to yourself, you worthless, ugly *******.

Why can't you be strong like the other girls?
Why don't you just quit eating and have discipline like they do?
We know it's because you're scared. You ******* coward.

Even we aren't the worst things that you deal with.
What about your little "habit?"
Be it drugs, self harm, purging, or alcohol. Just take your pick.

You deserve every little thing that's happened to you.
You'll never be enough.
You aren't worth it.

You never were.

Sincerely,
Ana & Mia