i forgot what i looked like.
or maybe i never knew.
maybe i've only ever been
a pile of edits
a draft that never made it to final form.
too many versions—
none of them true.

but all of them hated.
every.
single.
one.

i watched myself
like a villain watches the hero
waiting for the failure.
my eyes burned holes
in every reflection
with rage
or fear
or something worse—
that quiet, creeping disgust
that never announces itself
but settles in your bones
like mold.

my body shifted.
again.
again.
again.

the scale moved.
the mirror warped.
the lines on my face turned corners
i don’t remember drawing.

i became
a blur.
a glitch.
a shape i didn’t sign off on.

and standing there,
what’s left—
just a sad mountain
of a hopeless woman
whose only consistent feature
is her pain.

those eyes,
always those eyes.

a flicker of hope once—
turned
to shame
turned
to silence
turned
to a stare
that says
"you’re still not enough."

but those eyes?
i’d know them anywhere.
i’d recognize that hurt
in any body
on any planet
in any lifetime
and still
call it
me.

to exist
when i want nothing but love of my own
for myself
some of it,
dedicated entirely to my being,
my skin, by all means

and i feel like this skin isn't mine
like a second layer
some days i dream of tearing it apart
and perhaps finding what i look like
within

is it any different from the other deformations?
do i have it smooth, baby-like, good enough, to be accepted?

had it been all natural,
nature-given, that way i'd have perhaps accepted
alas, knowing it's a play of the world onto me
and in my body,
my blood messing up everything it's meant to do for me
all because of the ones that were supposed to create antibodies

there's this guttural scream that ensnares me whole

where do i go
when i see them fight the demons outside and around
i can't even win the battles that i carry within me, all time round

and i'm on a war with myself
there's rage, there's ache, there's the pain
of when will i accept
i shall forever bargain

why do i even begin to heal if i have to go down the same place
down the same low
the lows hit lower
i see new symptoms, new symphonies of how it could and would
and it does—it gets worse again
and it's a cycle

healing, accept the white little ***** that carry the science of potential magic
put all my hopes, have them disintegrate
go back again
start at the beginning, new dose around—i'm healing

and then i come crashing down again

and it's the nights
and the mornings
that are the worst

both the times, when i should be at my best
i'm battling, wanting to hide and disappear
and wear a snake-like skin on myself

i hate me
and this hatred lives deep within like a monster that birthed itself
out of the normal, the ordinary that i have lacked

there are days where i pull at my roots
watch them fade
watch them fall
i cry and lose hope with every strand that couldn't stand tall
and it's like cemented on me

had it been scales on a snake, i'd have called it flashy
it's disgust that's piled in my eyes, against my being
i see the look on my face
the dead, the dead stares back every time i try to play pretend
and it whispers
it whispers, smirking in my ear

this is what you get

be normal?
oh i would do anything—exchange half my lifeline
if i could live through a healthy half of life
or whatever remains
i've tired myself out of it all anyway

there's bumps
and there's fractures
i feel like it's my own skin that peels
every time i grasp it

and it's visceral
too graphical, no gore however
makes me wonder
how it'd be—moments of softness
where i cherish just me
where who i am isn't my enemy
even just for a breath
i wish to write about that breath

but oh—
imagining is hard when there's nothing left for you to do
the ones living in delusions have thought and wondered if it could all come true
my case is different
so far, years upon years i've been hoping
but the last of this strength, the last drop in the vessel that was given
it might run out as soon as i stop breathing and moping

and i am perhaps the most devastating liar of all
you shall never see me burning myself to the ground
for i'll stand tall through it all
and in front of your lies, i'll deceive and speak my practiced lines
i'm alright, it is what it is—i'll be fine

i won't be. i am not. i'm tired. give me some hope.

i might be a ***** for feelings
and i fear—i fear so loudly in a silence
call me a *******—love is what i want
hatred is all that i got

i have been hiding
and i've been running
and i sat in this adventure ride
never got back out of it

i'm scared
and i don't think i'll get out of this shell ever
so i imagine myself hiding
covered in multiple shells and armors
walls surrounding me, boundaries in the form of
words and my own scars—the ones that aren't even on the surface
protecting me, giving the silent comfort
that they are here, to carry me on, forward

and i've lied so much
i started believing my own lies
forgetting what was the truth
'cause it hurt so much

what do you do when you go down?
where do you go when you are drowning?

quiet is peaceful
quiet is welcoming
like i don't have to perform to exist in here, no
especially the dark
no one can see me
i can't see me
and that's just easy

to exist that way
been felt for, not seen on the surface
not just looked at, but heard
for your voice to find out of your own existence

there's voices in my head
that'll scare you more

what even is there to love
or like?
i see nothing
and on the surface
it's all to despise

show me if there's something
don't tell me it's the heart that's worth it

when you starve yourself for long enough
the void of hunger becomes like it's a normal
the new normal

starving myself of everything
to get used to it the best way
the void, though
continues to grow

i get these random bouts of feeling
such immense loneliness
makes me want to pull in the closest person
hug them tight
take all the warmth
squeeze out my life

i'm layers upon layers
of words and of stories
of people i've met, their memory
and of all who've given up before me
girl in pieces, i shall call myself
would anyone even want me?

Sometimes I hate my body
But sometimes I feel like a hottie
It's unpredictable how I feel
The feeling of hated can easily steal
It feels like such a crime
But I guess I'll have to take it one step at a time
To relearn to love myself again
Maybe I'll feel like a ten
Having something of my own
Wishing I didn't feel so alone
To feel more confident in that bikini
Sometimes I wish I was just a little more skinny
It's hard for me to see other girls look the way I want to look
But in the end I don't want jealousy in my book
They say the prettiest thing a girl can wear is confidence
I wish I had more of that.

My body craves it, but my mind doesn't.
Next thing you know, the bite goes down my throat.
"Why are you doing this?"
"You're a disappointment."
"You'll never reach your dreams."
"Why don't you just eat less?"
The devil on my shoulder says.

It's not easy. It's never enough. IM never enough.

"Didn't you just eat? You're eating again? "
"Why don't you eat? You've ate nothing but gum.."
"Hey, you look a little glum are you okay?"
"I miss her so much. I had just talked to her yesterday."

When she smiles and laughs,
It no longer sounds hollow,
For she has learned
To mask her sorrow.
She's so uncertain
Of why she is sad.
Her life is fine now.
Why does it hurt so bad?
Tears won't fall.
She forgot how to cry.
Most of the time
She just wants to die.
She's obsessed with this concept
That skinny is perfect.
She pukes if she eats
Just trying to feel worth it.
She looks in the mirror
And hates what she sees.
She slices her skin
Screaming, "I don't wanna be me!"
But by tomorrow
No one will know
She'll smile and laugh.
The scars won't show.
They think she is better.
They couldn't be more wrong.
She plays the part well.
They think she is strong.
Now and again
Someone sees past her mask.
They study her face
And quietly ask.
She looks back smiling
And she says, "I'm fine,"
But the sad truth is
She always lies.

i see a mass standing in front of the mirror—
a human, perhaps.
i can't call her a girl.
she doesn't have the attributes—
enough to be called all that.

it's a reflection,
undeterred,
simply wretched.

there are marks on the mirror—
proof it hasn't been cleaned.
i wonder if they're on my body too.
i hope the glass has enough cracks
to hide and tell
how it feels every time
i discover the same wrecked look
staring back.

the skin is loose
around a few different hooks,
feels like it's sagging—
i pull so hard,
hoping i'll tear through.

i feel nothing but pain
for her,
hidden beneath all that disgust—
the turmoil i'll put her in,
the self-hatred.

and to think—
she’s just become
a black mass
of everything and nothing.

a loathsome, foolish little being
that can’t fit,
can’t talk,
can’t sit.

she’s not the ideal.
and sometimes i think
her existence
isn’t for the world even—

she’s just a scandal.

beauty is pain
that's what they tell the young girls
that looks matter more
than comfort

caked on makeup
that weighs your face down
tight clothes
that show off your body
but restricting your lungs
starving and counting calories
just to achieve the hourglass figure
plastic surgery and botox
just to meet the beauty standards

they go through all this pain
and suffering
just to reach the ideal image
that changes so quickly
so you can't keep up
and are constantly adjusting theirselves
trying to feel beautiful

but what they don't realize
is that no matter how much you try
to fit in
it will never be enough

beauty is what you make it
be comfortable in your own skin
wear what makes you feel good
eat when hungry
starving makes you feel worse

there is light at the end of the tunnel
i promise

these models in magazines and billboards
set unrealistic expectations for young girls
thinking they need to starve themselves
just to get the flat stomach
and hourglass figure
envying every girl they see
who they view as prettier than them
going to such extremes to fit the rapidly
changing beauty standards
leaving their youthful bodies behind
to go under the knife
and inject their face with fillers
just to be called beautiful
to feel beautiful
but then the standards change
and they don't feel beautiful anymore
they do more procedures
and exercise until they drop
until the standards are to be natural
and it feels like it was all for nothing
that they'll never be enough

i feel like i'm chasing a body
that i'll never reach
every time i feel like it's in my grasp
it slips through my fingers
hunger pangs is my new normal
skipping meals and snacks
filling up on water
as not to gain weight
losing weight is all i can think about
i never have seemed to love my body
always thinking about how i look
i compare myself to everyone
and i never achieve what they seem
to have so easily
once i lose weight
it always comes back
i can't keep it off
you can tell me thousands of times
that i'm not fat or that i look nice
but your compliments will fall on deaf ears
my body has felt big since a little kid
even when i was malnourished
i saw obesity
i'll never love myself

It's Wednesday.
A flicker of nerves runs through me.
What will it say today?
The machine that holds half my worth.

I worked out four times last week.

But you skipped a day—two weeks ago.

I've been eating 1200 calories.

Have you?
What about the late-night snacks at 10 PM?
What about the weekends?

The scale will see.
It won’t lie.

I get on, and immediately, I hate myself.
A 2.5-pound weight gain in 14 days
I want to starve
I want slit my wrists
See if it teaches me a lesson:
Eat less,
Work harder,
Harder,
HARDER

The scale mocks me.
I hate it so much,
But I can’t stop.
It’s an addiction.
Tell me—
What will you show me in seven days?
Will I finally be enough then?