Eat fish,
Fish makes brain,
Brain makes money,
Money buys fish.

It's been five days
Since I've had a proper meal.
I won't eat. 
Those three words don't mean 
I won't eat at all,
Only enough so I don't die. 
I eat a bowl of fruit and a sandwich everyday. 
Lots of beverages! 
Don't forget!
I've learned to like the feeling of my empty stomach. 
I am now conscious of the feeling of my bones. 
It's been five days since I have had a proper meal. 
Weird how in so little time I'm already feeling thin. 
I don't look different I know, but I feel different. 
I know it's not healthy but maybe one more day. 
One more day and you might like me. 
One more day and you might like me the way you like her. 
The tall thin one. 
I won't eat
Because you didn't know how much it killed me when you looked at her the way I looked at you. 
Maybe next time you see me you'll ask, "how did you do it? What happened?"
 And I will simply reply,
I won't eat.

If you would
sit down at my table,
to be savouring
the feast of our little fable,
sharing the dishes
of dreams and of thoughts
seasoned with promises,
of both mine and of yours.

I know it's taking my life away.
I know it's a facade.
I know it's ruining me.
But it's also a whole part of my brain that's different.
And I can't just switch it off.
I can't just make a change.
I can't have good day after good day. There's so many ups and downs. And that's why when people say "well just eat." It's so angering because,
I. Am. Not. In. Control.
I don't want to throw up I ******* hate it. Everytime I do it I literally go "no no no. But I have to."
And when I see ice cream or bread I reach for it and it's like something grabs my hand out of thin air and breaks my wrist.
And it's a physical pain and I want to cry all the time because I hate living like this.
But I'm scared living without it, too.
It's such a comfort and that's what's most scary about it.
And I can never foresee a future for myself. I get panicked because I can't even figure out what I want right now. All I can think about is this disease.

Told how to live, how to dress, how to talk,
Taught how to sit, how to eat, how to walk,
We buried our freedom beneath the gloss of life.

The savages lived happily after all,
Not caring about the gloss of success,
They enjoyed the hell hole, called life.

She was just a girl whose eyes were constantly filled with the darkness that ate holes in her soul.