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Kelsey Oct 12
We grew up together
Two peas in pod
You were my sidekick and I was yours
My one true platonic soulmate

So how did I let this happen?
How did I not know what was
Happening behind the four walls of your mind.
Behind the baggy sweaters that
Were suddenly "fashionable" all year round.

But if I think back carefully
Maybe I didn't miss it
Maybe I just ignored it

Ignored how when you got back from your
Summer in France the snug hoodie I gave you
Was no longer very snug
But rather hung like an ornament
On the thin frame of your body

Or how your legs began to resemble sticks
With a thigh gap most girls would die for.
Maybe I should have known the first time
You refused to eat your favourite ice cream
(chocolate mint chip) because calories!

When you told me you were in hospital
You said you were sick
But not in the way I thought you were
Because you didn't have chicken pox
Or pneumonia or bronchitis
You were sick in way that was much more twisted
You had a sickness of the mind
One that toyed with your thoughts
And messed with your sense
Until your body was wasting away.

I must admit at first I was angry
Because how could you keep this from me
I was your best friend and
You never told me your biggest secret
However then I was shocked
I could not understand
how you were in so much pain
And yet I did not know.
How had I cried for months
Proclaiming pain and suffering
That I believed no one could relate too
And yet here you were
Silently proclaiming the exact pain .
mars Oct 3
I don't

2. Think I will

3. Ever stop

4. Counting

5. But I can

6. Learn to live

7. Around the numbers
Vxn Sep 29
i remember the first time i binged.
it felt so fantastic to fill stomach
push it to it's limits.
Renee told me girls with wide hips are sloppy *****.
i was ******, never even kissed a boy but i was going to show her how sloppy i could be.
i remember
2 boxes of six jumbo honey buns
3 microwave pepperoni pizzas
2 bottles of sprite
4 microwaveable fast bite hamburgers
1 back of gummy worms
1/2 a box of cheeze itz
my stomach hurt so bad
i hurt so bad
i looked in mirror and thought about Renee
neat petite small but tall i thought about 6th grade
it all came up
crouched in front of the porcelain bucket
everything came up
i hate puking
feeling my stomach spasms and rub against itself makes my skin crawl
after i emptied i stood up
light headed
but i felt full
i felt good
i looked at myself and thought
oh no
my first experience with bulimia.
Aaryn Sep 24
100
don't worry I'm fine
But I lie all the time
but I'm fine
trust me this time
I'm in control

100
that's enough
that's all you get
don't be a *****
You're fat

you're a pig
5 bites for breakfast
Nothing for lunch
3 bites of dinner
then go for a run
ha you thought you were done?

We're only getting started
crunches
sit ups
leg lifts
wall sits
you're a ****** up human
look at all this lose skin

those fat thighs
and these white lies
of saying that you're fine
when all of your thoughts
are consumed by this routine
gotta eat clean
only protein

got a b+?
well guess what?
You'll cut yourself
with that blade on the shelf

but the pounds are dropping
what did I say?
but all this jogging
and constant fasting
is not gonna last you
you've gotta eat less
and run more
listen to me
****** *****
you wanna be pretty?
lucky for you
I don't feel pity

You must be empty
I've told you this
Yet you still insist
On eating this
****** ****
you don't need that

stop lying
You're not hungry
can you ever be trusted
this isn't funny

Empty
You must stay empty
Based of of my experiences with eating disorders and from what others have told me
Lost Sep 19
I miss you
Over 100mg a day
You made
my heart race

I miss you
The way you
Made me scratch
at my skin
and my scalp
Until there was blood
Under my fingernails

I miss you
Dropping 35lbs with you
Made me feel
So pretty
That I stopped eating
For days
And started purging
The food from my empty
Shrunken stomach
In public restrooms
With plastic spoons

I miss you
I didn’t sleep alone
When I had you
You sat on my chest
And wrapped my hands
Into white-knuckled
Clenched fists
You held me tighter
With each shallow
Painful breath

I miss you
My now steadied limbs
Don’t feel complete
In the absence of
Your gentle rattle
I want you to make
My bones dance again

I miss you
Joints shuddering
In aching pain
From you
Winding them up
So tight
I wish you could
Be here again
To contract
Every muscle
In my starved
Depleted body

I miss you
We would sit
On the bathroom
Counter together
And scrutinize
My yellowed skin
Picking and prodding
At every imperfection
For hours
Leaving scabs
And scales
Littering my
New thin face

I miss you
I remember fondly
The time we spent
Together laying
Face-down on
My kitchen floor
The tingly buzz
You filled me with
Every time I fainted
Pleasantly twinkling
Across my body

I miss you
At 4am
The time we
Used to stay
Up until
Every night
Staring at a wall
In my dimly lit room
Hours passing
Without me
Even noticing

I miss you
I know you hurt me
But I want you back
Every day
I miss how you made
Every moment hurt
And now I spend
All my time
Craving that pain

I miss you
I want you
To wreak havoc
All over again
Through my
Willing body
Swallowing doses
Of prescribed self harm
Each morning
I’m so horribly
Painless without you
CONTENT WARNING: Descriptions of disordered eating and bulimia
Well, well, well
Something that you don't wish to obtain:
wellness.

Whether it be hunching over the toilet,
evacuating today's third feast of the day,
or continuing to hear whispered words from made-up beings,
not taking the cocktails to silence them
or maybe, just continuing to stay empty,
not letting anything fill the void

Staying sick --
Whether it be of the body,
mind,
or soul,
will not make others love you more,
and it will not make others stay
but it will have them fade away
just
like
you
cher Aug 23
acting on a stage,
she builds with each step,
step,
    step,
        stepping,
the floorboards trail behind her feet.
they form from the soil,
the earth breathing beneath,
wooden planks sprouting between her toes.

she sings in a voice strained and trained,
her diaphragm strong and core
rumbling in single breaths.

her skin brushed with pigment,
cheeks tinted rouge and lips scrubbed till pain,
gold-dusted on her bones
rays reflecting and blinding from her beauty.

stomach she ***** in,
twenty-four
seven,
always prim and proper,
a perfect specimen of femininity,
her blood flows in a viscosity unique
only to the elite.

fingers down
but she lacks words to throw up,
she's silent,
an empty vessel,
her lips meant to be a two-way gate
but nothing flows either way.

her skin sunkissed turmeric,
her irises tapioca pearls,
hair flowing and falling from her face
toasted nori on the white rice her dress.

daily rehearsals of sixteen
odd years practicing lines;
memorizing them, repeating internally,
the stage she builds like a church
her loves oppose to the act,
but she builds an antidisestablishment
forcing her audience of parishioners
away from her.
[ T R I G G E R    W A R N I N G ]
my friend challenged me to use the words viscosity and antidisestablishmentarianism and so i made this boi
Sky Aug 22
Every day feels like Winter. Sad and dreary, and cold.
You’re young and numb, but you feel so tired and old.
Summer isn’t Summer. Spring isn’t spring.
Seasons don’t matter, now they're just a dreaded thing.
The virus has devoured your mind, you aren’t even alive.
You used to walk hundreds of steps, but now, barely even 5.
Your heart is slower than your thinking.
Your sunken eyes are tired of blinking.
You want to give up, but the disease says no.
You wish that this deadly thing would just go.
All you are is skin and bone,
and you beg your voices to leave you alone,
but they won’t.

Your hair is dead and just dry straw, but you didn’t need it anyway.
Your fingernails are breaking off, but you didn’t need them anyway.
Your teeth are rotting one by one, but you don’t smile much anyway.
Your bones are next, since they are brittle and breaking,
What will it take to stop this internal aching?
As the virus eats your flesh, in your week old sweater,
you remember what it was like to be… better.

The sad thing is, you’ll continue to decay and let the voices rave,
even if it means that you will soon be placed in a concrete grave.
because at least you’ll feel pretty and alone,
proud of what’s left of your skin and bone.
Except you won’t be alive to be aware of yourself.
how sickening and skeletal you have made yourself.
you looked no different when you were alive,
except you were just living, but still dead inside.
You wear death perfectly, since this is who you are
and what you wanted.



At least no one can look at you.
At least no one can make you eat.
At least you can’t be tempted by a delicious treat.
At least no one can bother you, and let you rest in peace.
No mirrors to look in for hours and cry.
No more complaining that you wish you would just die.
No more worries, or sadness, or pain.
Your mind is gone and you're no longer insane.
You can sleep forever under the stars, and i suppose,
you can finally turn into nature, while you decompose.
And the best of all, is that you're no longer in your own skin.
No longer in your pitiful body, so technically, you win.
You’re a fresh soul who can no longer grieve,
and everything has left, and what’s left will leave.
Until you’re empty. Like you've always been.


But that hasn't happened yet.
Your mind is fading, and you always forget,
That you're still real, but you hate feeling real,
because you can still hurt, you can still feel.
You wish you could unzip your skin and set it on fire,
and watch it perish, in it’s disgusting attire.
At least you can disintegrate in that bed of yours.
Give in to all of your vicious wars.
But when it leaves temporarily, you still beg for more.
That’s how you know that you're sick to your very core.
You’ve been suffering this all alone,
You never leave the house, yet you feel like you aren't home.
And when this weather gets worse and hits you like a stone,
And the rain has fallen and the wind has already blown,
And this Winter climbs up your spine, and chills you to the bone,
You were once human. You would’ve never known.
This last day feels like Winter. Sad and dreary, and cold.


I hope that the broken disordered recover one day.  There is beauty through the broken, but you shouldn’t need to be broken to be beautiful.
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