i’m a liar because i’ll tell you how much i hate this, this living ordeal,
i’ll complain my way through an hour or two at a
coffee shop/bar/angry phone call from an apartment balcony
i’ll say this but if i hated it like i said i do. wouldn’t be writing.
wouldn’t be finding flowers to put in empty jars. wouldn’t say thank you, thank you, wouldn’t stand in warm water for an hour or more just to see what it’s like, today.
if i hated it i wouldn’t care about it so passionately, wouldn’t
white knuckle my way through wanting it to work so badly.
a true hate would be numbing out and accepting,
a true distaste for life would be an indifference to it.
i’ve always written that my first real love was with life
my first roller coaster romance, first earth shattering heartbreak, first all encompassing obsession
and i stand by that. always have.

the nose that sits flat
against her face burns, as
it barricades
against the tears that are
soon to flood and stain
the cheeks, the crevices where her nostrils meshed
with her upper lip. the shattered glass that surrounded her rippled,  
a sea of diamonds.
her hands were pressed in a pool
of their own blood as it seeped
slowly from her cold claws.
the sharp stinging
eventually dulled, but
the scratches embedded in her throat
were still angry and raw, her knuckles
were crusted with the liquid
of dead roses. her gut
was empty, yet still
she retched, but the demons would not
allow her to exorcise them so she stuck
******* down her throat,
as if she could scoop them out.

i began to eat again.
i haven't told anyone.
no one really noticed anyways.
my hands didn't shake or turn the small packet of goldfish around to see the calories.
i felt okay eating them.
i ate all of it.

getting home,
i feel hungry.
and now,
i eat.
without guilt, without shame.
no small voice in my head tells me how big i am or how disappointed i should be in myself.

i take a deep breath if the voice comes back,
close my eyes and chew.
chew until i feel okay to swallow.

today,
i'm eating.
and tomorrow,
i will again.

I want to know what people see,
I'll never see myself clearly.
My brain changes and contorts my body,
I'll
**** in my stomach till I can't breathe,
Nothing but high waisted skinny jeans,
No tight shirts, dresses, or bikinis.

I'm
too wide in the waist
too broad in the shoulders
too chubby in the fingers
too full in the cheeks

And
I'll never see what people see
I'll never see what makes me, me.

eating is torture
eating is a total nightmare
I’m torn between needing the food because I’m starving and being horrified of the food coming inside of my body and making me feel full
The feeling of the food inside of my stomach is absolutely terrifying
I’m the puppet of my anorexia
I’m terrified of getting away with not eating, but there’s a bigger part that praises me when I get away with not eating
I’m never gonna make it easy for them, because of the terror
Eating makes me so ******* scared
I don’t want to gain weight, I’m already fat
The people around me are lying, telling me I am too skinny
Or is it my head that’s lying to me?
Why do I see a fat person in the mirror when I look at myself
I eat less than a 100 calories each day
I need a minimum of 2000
How is it that I’m still so fat?
Eating is horrifying to me
My parents think I do it to control them, but that’s such a lie
I do it because I’m genuinely scared to eat
I fear eating and I fear food
I fear getting my stomach full and I fear getting fat
I don’t know how to overcome this fear
I’m working so hard and no one sees it

No one is the same
No one is normal
Or perfect
So girl
Start looking in the mirror
See yourself
Instead of an dellusion
For the delusion is death

I feel you
Slipping away
I know you'll
Write back but
Will it be too late
Eating pecans
And thinking
Of your face
Wishing I
Could talk to you
But not sure
What to say

I keep eating things I shouldn’t.
Dreams, cars, ink, brick
These are the things that make me sick.
Skin, bone, flesh and scars
Topped with sugar, flush with stars
Love, death, silence still
Down the gullet, living will
Though I swore I wouldn’t
I’m eating things I shouldn’t
Again.

I strive to experience
all the ways
my body
feels joy.

Is there joy when eating?
I strive to experience eating-joy!

Is there joy when having ***
with somebody I romantically-love?
I strive to experience romantic-***-joy!

Is there joy in exercising my muscles?
I strive to experience muscles-joy!

Is there joy in exercising my brain?
I strive to experience thinking-joy!

Is there joy in exercising my emotions?
I strive to experience feeling-joy!

I wonder
what are all the ways
I can experience
joy
using my body?

Do we need to forbear (abstain)
from doing particular activities
to optimise our joy and happiness?
For example:
Do we need to forbear
from overeating
to prevent obesity and diabetes
and optimise our health, joy and happiness?
Do we need to forbear
from overindulging in alcohol
to prevent brain-damage and liver-damage
and optimise our health, joy and happiness?

What other activities
should we forbear from
to optimise our joy and happiness?