i was born in a ghost hospital
a pile of stones and then a blank slate
with new antiseptic rooms
invisible blood-stained linoleum
and the sound of rubber tennis shoe soles
replacing the place where
i was born with dying stars in my eyes
and supernovae bursting with the
last of their fiery energy before they
blink out of existence
like the hospital where i was born

am i now to be a woman
without true north
a single brick from the single place
where i respired freely and
crisp breaths of truth passed
like whispers over my wordless lips
before the oozing obsidian night
slowly crept up and
wrapped itself around me like
a flea infested blanket
and the blinding white light
of a growing chain reaction
a deafening ring in my ears
nothing

then slow realization that
i'm still alive
battered by beta particles
attacked by alphas
and i'm alone in the nuclear winter
to trek towards my kaaba
the only piece of
where i came into the world
and was the baby girl that
my parents cradled in their
awkward hesitant arms
the little angel my father thought
would certainly break
into a million pieces by the slightest breath of wind
and scatter to heaven
for where else should such innocence be?

i yearn for that brick
from my hospital
because its foundation was built
on something apart
from eating disorders
bipolar disorder
suicide attempts
neat lines of cuts in various stages of healing
when i hold that stone in my hand
residual sand from the
demolition site crumbling
as i turn the cement over
and over
its warmth and weight so real in my hand
that i can see a dim light in a window
a glowing blonde kissing
her black haired beau
and the baby in her arms
theirs
even just for that night.

I've always been obsessed with bones

When i was only 10 years old i saw a beautiful woman with extremely skinny, long and straight legs.
I wanted to be like her.

As long as i can remember i've always looked at peoples collarbones.
My friends says i'm obsessed with bones.

"How many coins can you stack on your collarbones?
I can stack 23 on each.
Wanna see a picture?"

If you want to look skinnier,
push back your *** and lean a bit forward.
That way you'll appear to have a thigh gap.

When i get anxious,
i rub the places on my body where i can feel bones.
It calms me to know i still have them

If you want to lose weight.
Starving is a great idea.
Drink water to fill you up, and burn at least 800 calories a day.

When i feel sad, i hit myself.
I don't like cutting, not anymore.
Bruising is much better.
The bonier you are the faster you bruise.

Everyone relates to a skeleton.

I'm not sick, i don't have an eating disorder and i'm not getting "too thin"

It's not like i lose a lot of weight.. Maybe 3-4 pounds a week.
But then i gain it back and lose a little more the next time.

My demons laugh, everytime i resist a piece of food.
They're proud of me, cause i'm still standing. Even after being empty for so long.

I'm not sick, i don't have an eating disorder, and i'm not getting "too thin"
I'm becoming a better me

I can't even bring myself to get off the bathroom floor,
Let alone continue as everything is normal.
Theres really no point to go anywhere else, im just going to end up back here again within the next twenty four hours.
Seems like i spend more time with my fingers down my throat, than anything i've ever tried to accomplish.
I don't know why im like this.
I use my fingers to rip out the secrets that im too afraid to tell,
But once they're out in the open i banish them as soon as i possibly can.
I don't want to be like this; i don't want this to control me.
Little by little i've let it creep into my life, and now its the only thing that occupies my mind.
'What are you going to eat, and how much of it'
'How will you get rid of this, you can't just leave it in your stomach'
Those are just a few of the things that i hear in my mind on the daily.
I said i was finished with this, but im not sure.
I  just don't know if I'm ready to abandon this and all my hard work.

I am a hypocrite.
I tell my friends they have to eat,
when I don't.
I tell them not to listen to what others say
when I do.
I tell them they shouldn't cut
when i do
I tell them life is worth living
when I've attempted suicide.
I tell them to be happy
when I'm battling depression.
But regardless,
know I am here
For anyone battling depression
Anyone considering suicide,
Cutting,
Not eating,
Questioning their self worth,
Or maybe just sad.
I am here.

If you could see past my eyes
Into my disquieted brain
You'd think I was obsessed
Or at least a little insane
You would shake your finger at my thoughts
As I chase ribcages while caging myself
Into a world of bones and rot
I can calculate calories into a formula for happiness
Like I measure my merit with a measuring tape
And I know that "looks aren't everything"
But it looks to me like they are
Because society suggests that you "be yourself"
While screaming the importance of beauty and wealth
And we all know that ugly doesn't make it
Into the movies
Just like fat doesn't make it into the magazines
If I could look into the mirror without seeing
Distortions
Then maybe I could convince myself to eat bigger
Portions
But as the story goes, as the song is sung
Another girl loses to the battle of one
I'm at war with myself, and it's making me sick
Sick in the head; sick in the heart
I sicken myself as I'm falling apart
I hate this hollow pursuit for a hollow life
And yet I secretly starve myself
In an attempt to get it right
You might be somewhat confused
As to why I undergo this kind of beating
Yes, hunger is painful
But so is eating

the pain.

she envied the movie star like glistening smile.

she wanted to be like the girls who were carefree.

she wanted to be beautiful.

but beautiful to her was thin.

it started when someone called her fat.

"am I?" she wondered.

so she starved herself, maybe eating a ******* or two after mama told her.

but she spit them back up because she couldn't help it.

she wanted to be like the pretty school cheerleaders.

and she hated herself.

each time she stepped on the scale she cried.

the numbers soon went from 88 to 89

"im doing it wrong" she thought.

and she continued on going day by day with water.

swallowing and spitting back up.

eating more and more.

and spitting it back up.

she was slowly going insane, day by day.

she started slicing her wrists like meat.

she started crying herself to sleep.

she became empty of adrenaline.

she didn't want to wake up anymore.

i guess you could say that

pain, is an understatement.

You ask me, what anorexia is like.

It's like slipping or twisting your ancle without anyone seeing, no one to help you up.
You sit until someone comes by, they help you up, but after a while you slip again.
This time your sitting in mud and slowly sinking into it.
And when you're two feet into that hole, a person comes by and tries to help you since your anvle is hurt.
But you're afraid they'll fall too so you ask them to leave.
You start to crawl out and finally get up, but slip again.
You fall down in that hole again, and this time you beoke your entire leg.
It starts raining and the hole grows deeper.
It's 5 feet deep now.
One of your well known friends comes by and tries to help you, but ends up throwing you a shovel.
But actually you start to like your hole, you take contact to people, who also fell into a hole.
There are sites on the internet, some shows how to get the deepesr mist perfect hole.
Other shows how to get up.
But you're sad, and you like your hole, so you try to get that deepesr one.
You want to win this, you wanna show everyone who called you weak that you can get the deepest hole in the world.
But when you're 20 feet under ground, and everyone starts to notice your hole.
Everyone is willing to help you.
And suddenly you have 20 shovels, and 20 stairs.
But you can't decide wich one is better.
*That's what being anorexic is like