[CW - sh]

The first time,

Just needed them to notice

That I wasn’t fine

I was feeling hopeless

Didn’t really know what I was doing,

But I did it





Back then, I was fine with breathing

There was nothing wrong, wrong with eating

I didn’t really care for feeling,

But I was fine with the fact  

That my heart kept beating





The next time, the thoughts.

Too loud, drown them out

With the pain, with the hurt

A new cut, an alert

That once again, I needed help.





That time, still fine with breathing

However, had some struggles with eating

Wished I could just ignore my feelings

But I still found nothing wrong with

My heart still beat- beating



The third time, the worst time,

Chain reactions to and from

Watch as a big problem becomes

So. Much. Worse.





By then, I was aware of breathing

Had too many problems with eating

I hated all the things I was feeling

And I always had the knowledge

That my heart kept beating





The fourth time

Scar still lingers,

More annoying than stressful

First relapse in five months  





Five, six and seven,

Not a big deal, not deep

Faded away through sleep

But I was struggling.

There’s worse to come.









Then eight, nine, ten.

Worst times of my life

Friendships falling apart.

Thoughts ripping me apart

I was dying inside.

I almost died.





And at that point?

Oh, I wished my lungs would stop breathing

And wow, I was barely eating

Wished I could stop feeling

And almost stopped my heart from beating.





I’m doing better now, it’s true

Still fall sometimes, but still

I get back up, I keep going

Never alone anymore, maybe I never was

For for the first time, in a long time,

I’m glad my heart is beating.

Today
I was sitting at the dinner table
Behind a baked potato
Scared
Uncomfortable
Anxious
While my parents kept watching me
I sat there
While my brother
And my sister
Ate with no problem
No second thought
**** i wish i could be like that.
When everyone else got up
My mom looked at me
And said out loud
"can you just eat it? Its not that hard."
The dumb thing is
She thinks shes my savior
But she makes me feel like I belong in an asylum
Everyone was looking at me
Judging
While tears slowly fall
From my blurry eyes
The thing is
She doesnt even understand
She thinks i dont want to eat
But I can't
I can't
I can't
I can't
I can't
I can't
"I cant."
I mouthed
Silently
And she said
"Yes you can! Youre just being dramatic."
No, not said.
Exclaimed
She told me to take a few bites
I did
And I got up and walked away
And set my 1/10 empty plate
Next to the sink.
I went downstairs.
She yelled down the stairs
"deadname, get up here. You need to eat more food."
I ate some more.
And then I went back down
To sit with the guilt
I know shes trying to help
But please dont tell me to try to be grateful
Because she is just making things worse
My therapist agreed
The hospital agreed
So now
I will sit
And cry
I'm my room
Try to avoid getting blood stains on my sheets
Try to hide my tool
Try to get better
Because I do want to
But these people dont ******* understand.
And they need to stop pretending that they do.

No, oh no
Don't let me get like this again...

You tell me I'm getting "bigger," "fatter"
And point out how the clothes from when I was a preteen barely fit anymore.
And ask me if I'm really going to eat "all that"

Well, I guess not,
I guess I'll just
Serve myself less
and less

And maybe I'll keep track of what I'll eat--
Yes, I'll count the exact amount of calories that I need
And measure out how much I eat.

And then-
At the gym,
I'll push myself so hard,
Until I can't think straight,
and it just hurts,
and I can't breathe,
and I can't think straight,
and I begin to see stars float around (oh, aren't they beautiful?).

And then-
Once I eat too much, or even if I ate just enough, or too little--
If I ate at all,
Then I'll kneel over the toilet
And purge out my mistakes.

Yes, that's exactly what I'll do.

...

You say that I'm getting worse again,
That I'm beautiful,
That I have no reason to be doing this
That I'm selfish for doing this.

...Oh?
But aren't you the one that served me less,
And put me on the scale and turned that number into the new calorie deficit,
And took me to the gym to slim down until I was nothing more than skin and bones,
And forced me to kneel in front of the toilet,
The same way I would at the church pew,
Held my hair back,
Forced my fingers down my throat to activate the reflex that barely works anymore,
And made me purge out all of myself and flush it down?

No?
Oh.
Well, whatever,
Never mind.