Darkness creeps very oddly.
It’s eating my sanity slowly.
It makes me so crazy,
That it’s very scary.

Crying,
Over the bathroom scale because I think the numbers are taunting
Smiling,
Because if people actually saw how I was feeling they'd avoid me.
Hurting,
Because I'd rather bottle it up than tell anyone
Dying,
Because not eating is more appealing than being happy.

I feel it
I hate it
I can stop it. I can eat.
Food tastes guilty.
I lie,
I starve.
I hide the fact that I'm hungry,
But I'm not going to eat.
Not yet.
Not until I've taken control

if you’re on drugs for a while,
you start to forget how you started.
now, when the doc asks me how the meds are,
i always say “fine.”

"i'm losing myself, but i'm fine."

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
They told her
As she dug her fingernails deep into her skin
Like her flesh was made out of playdoh
In the uncautious hands of a toddler.
Her life balances dangerously on her tongue,
steadied only by a love she will not swallow
For she has been told
“Too much sugar will rot your teeth.”

The night settles in
The dark crawls on my skin
The sleepiness never comes
My heart sounds like a drum

The silence drives me crazy
My vision never gets hazy
I wish for the moon to go down
So I could hear at least one sound

The old house creaks
It feels like it's been weeks
The clock seems unmoving
My sleepiness is not improving

My eyes feel glued open
My mind feels so broken
The minutes turn to hours
My tongue is feeling sour

At 2am insanity bites
I need to turn on the lights
Where the hell is the sun?
I'll only sleep if I use the gun

The fear draws near
My vision is still crystal clear
I pray to god for sleep
I start to shake and weep

4am is when I decide
I want to tear out my eyes
The dark is my blanket
But I just want to yank it

7am. The sun is here
The sounds are back, I can finally hear
The light is now my best friend
And the night has finally come to an end

I am obsessed with my health. Not just simply my health, but my weight, and my eating habits, and my view on life and myself. I am so obsessed that it has now gotten to the point where it is all I think about, and it has become obvious to everyone around me.

I can tell you which lunch ladies at my school won't question your lunch choices, which teachers will let you sit in their classrooms during lunch because you don't want to be around anyone or food; I have memorized restaurant menus, and I can tell you the meals with the lowest amounts of calories. My photo gallery is full of screenshots of healthy, low calorie, low fat, no-sugar recipes that I intend to make when I choose. I follow 177 eating disorders blogs on Tumblr. One of them being my girlfriend, and I get notifications when all of them post anything new. I weigh myself everyday, I know what I am eating two days from now, I overexercise, and I can tell you how many calories are in the 6 200mg ibuprofen I take everyday before facing the world.

I have lost 20 lbs. That doesn't seem like something worth keeping to myself, but it is when you are a high school girl; it is when all girls think the same, and suddenly when they hear numbers, they want to be number 1; they want to be the lowest, to be the winner, to be the most miserable person.

I can tell you exactly what it feels like to be embarrassed of being in your own skin.

I love giving other people food because I want them to remember that food is good for them. I want them to feel as though being given food is a kind gesture, not a last resort.

What is this i feel?
                            A sense to speak,
             A need to say something.
                                                     Yet the words,
      They fail me.
                  Yet the feelings,
                                     They go away.
                                                   I sit in words i cannot say aloud,
In the void of nothing.
          I feel nothing.

I.
                                                    ­       Am nothing.

                Mirrors are bullies,
                           Fathers are abusers,
Toilets are comforters,
                                                     ­    Yet I still feel nothing.
         Yet I cannot find the words…
                        to express the nothing I feel.
Why?
                                                      ­     Why do I hurt?

               No one understands,
                                     I don't understand.
    I am an empty well.

         Why do I continue to swallow pills to make me sick?
                              He tells me I am beautiful…

                              She tells me I am not fat.

   How come I roll?
                                                          How come I don't fit in like they do?

                                                  Why do continue to write him letters?

                           How come he hasn't showed up in seven years?

    How come no matter how many times I tell him

                                                            ­                      I forgive his abuse
                I still get angry
                                               And want to die?
  Why do I want
                 What everyone seems to be so afraid of?
                                                             ­         Death
So sweet
                                       Asleep forever.
                                                                ­  In a place where I don't have to
                Feel
                                            The
Nothing
                                                                ­ That
                         I am.

My mood flips.
Switches.
Changes.
It never stops.
It's like a roller coaster.
I'm on top of the world.
Then suddenly I am plumitting.
Crashing down.
Sometimes i'm higher than i've ever been
And sometimes i'm so low I can't get out of bed.
Bipolar is what they say.
I can't make it stop.
I'm happy.
I'm sad.
I'm angry.
I'm numb.
I'm everything all at once.
It's so much.
But for me it's normal.
They don't understand.
I don't want to change.
I don't want their ******* medications.
I don't want to be forever numb.
Shut off from my emotions.
I want to be me.
And this is who I am.
Bipolar,
Is what they say.
I say,
This is me.