Sometimes
I just want to die

not really,
but really

I'm just wanting an escape.
Wanting to leave this place
Leave the people
Leave the stress

I don't want any of it
Don't need anybody
just one
that's it

But I couldn't take him with me
He deserves better

I don't have any friends.
Don't get along with my parents.

I feel alone.
So just let me do it.
Let me go.

My wrists are already scarred.
My cheeks are already tear-streaked.
My will is already almost gone.
So just let me go.

It was a bad night last night
My tear stained cheeks
and sliced up wrists
can vouch.
I never know what I'm thinking anymore...
Or why.
I just know that I am.

It's scary,
You know...
Being like this.
I get scared,
and other people get scared.
More often than not,
I can't control these thoughts...
These protruding and unwelcome thoughts
but I don't know what to do.
I never know what to do anymore.
I just know that I've had a lot of bad nights lately.
A lot of them.
But I don't know what to do.

There are no words that I can describe my pain,
Besides fear, sheer helplessness
And bottled up pain and guilt
That was eating away at my soul
Until I couldn't bear it anymore.
Control slips through my fingers
Like grains of sand.
I tried to fight,
I really tried
Lying to myself that it was fine,
I couldn't let myself believe I was worth anything
So I ran to the bathroom scratching my throat
Regurgitating the pride I had once swallowed.
And a lump of coal I tried to hide

when did fine come to mean depressed, anxious, scared, suicidal, desperate, self-conscious?
when did we start to lie?

"I'm fine," she says, as her stomach gnaws away at her insides, growling for food

"I'm fine," he says, as he pulls the sleeves of his sweater down over his blood-stained wrists

"I'm fine," she says, after purging all of her dinner

"I'm fine," he says, when the anxiety gets so bad that he can't breathe right

"I'm fine," they say, as they write their last goodbye,
one last lie.

the cage of
my own making
made up of bones
and my own self hatred
has combusted at
the first touch of
self love

my bones dissolved
as the love poured
over them
the self hatred oozed
from the cracks
and escaped my body
never to be seen again

for the first time in years
peace flooded my brain
finally all that was left

was
just
m e

She hung by a thread to her sanity
Constantly staring in the mirror she realized her vanity
But if what they call her is "vain"
Then there must be more than one definition to that name
Because her sense of self is "skewed" and "inaccurate"
But to her it's all she knows and she's quite aspirant
Ready for change and to be a new version of herself
Hardly caring about her deteriorating health
Walking into the health club already exhausted
Not understanding how much it has costed
Not with money or credit but with physical wellbeing
Not heeding her body's warnings or in the mirror seeing
Her hair is thin and no longer growing in places
She compares her pale skin to the other people's faces
She puts ******* down her throat in the hope to purge up a candy bar
Convinced her calorie count was taken too far
Her nails chip far too easy
And the thought of eating makes her queezy
Yet the stress encompassing her life pushes her to binge
Hundreds into thousands the floodgates unhinge
Never for sustenance, always for taste
Each and every calorie is a ginormous waste
She collapsed on the Stairmill and in embarrassment and rage
Exited the gym floor as though it were left-center stage
With poise and a smile she laughed as they stared
She grabbed all her gear and left as they glared
When she got to the car she was nothing but angry
Pushing too hard her body sat blankly
Breathing was difficult and by speaking she was pained
Every ounce of her life force felt utterly drained
Her skin can no longer take the lack of nutrition
And her eyes are wavering as she tries to focus her vision
She used to be a student with straight A intent
But all she can think about is the next meal and its scent
Forgetting the most basic things about her day
She forgets how to write and takes a derivative the wrong way
People look puzzled as she waves off their concerns
While in her stomach and throat a deep hunger burns
She stares once again at her monstrous reflection
Grabbing and poking at her bulging midsection
Now huddled on the ground she stares at the ceiling
Entering a loose dreamy feeling
On the brink of unconsciousness she extends her hand skyward
Only then realizing that down to her soul she is tired

when did it all become so cruel
why is she better than her
why is it this instead of that
why cant i love myself
why cant i be myself
why do i have to be like everyone else

Coffee and cigarettes
I tell myself I have
Coffee and cigarettes
"You don't need food tonight."
Drink coffee.
Smoke cigarettes.
Ignore the rumbling.
"You don't need to eat."

Just one more meal, I tell myself
Is it a lie?
Is it the truth?
It doesn't matter
I shovel bite after bite into my mouth
Chew.
Swallow.
Choke.
Keep it in.
"Just one more bite."
It's therapeutic

My stomach is rumbling
No, I tell myself
"You just ate."
I feel nauseous
"You don't need to eat."
My body is tingling
"You're still full."
[Let's do something about it, then.]
I eat and I eat and I eat and I eat and I...

I puke.
I watch my body expel all that I ingested.
My forehead is wet
And so is my nape
My body is shaking
Make it stop
My body doesn't listen
I puke
I heave
I retch
I gasp
There, you're not full anymore.

I tell myself it's the cigarettes
I watch my food go down the drain
Too much smoke in my lungs
Too much nicotine in my veins
[Too many lies in your head.]
"Ignore it."
I wipe away the tears
I escape
My stomach rumbles
I need food
So I eat

Coffee
Cigarettes
They make me hungry
I'm always hungry
My stomach is constantly rumbling
Never satisfied
Never pleased
"I'm full."
[Let's do something about it.]
"Please don't."
[Too late.]
I eat and I eat and I eat and I eat and I...

I cry.

With the violent jerking,
And battering of my heart,
And my self-image,
I have deteriorated.
I don't want to look at myself for a second longer than it takes
To put on my face in the morning,
Because if I do,
I will begin to poke and **** at my own flesh,
Feeling as if I am going to upchuck every calorie I have consumed
In the 15 years, and 120 days of my life.
If I look at myself long enough,
I am repulsed,
And my day from that point on will be violently,
Disruptively disordered.
Everything I am forced to consume,
Because of the need to hide my disastrous disorder,
Will become disgusting, half-digested
*****.
And rottingly,
I will feel pure,
And vile,
All at the same time.