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Broken Pieces Apr 28
I count each number,
The calories drowning me.
And I just can’t float.
Owen Mar 19
The hunger,
control,
focus.
The discipline,
illusion
of ground gained.
Pain
turned
numb.
Starving,
violent
retaliation.
Losing Integrity, it all falls apart.
You're so sensitive
You need to grow up
You know he was joking
So why don't you stop
He has different humour
You just don't get it
My dads in his 70's
You can't say anything
It's not like hes lying
You are overweight
It was just a joke
Don't take it to heart mate
It's weird that it hurts you
And I will never understand
Because you just sit there
With your phone in your hand
I am frequently bullied by my exes father instead of taking it out on others i guess i'm doing poems now
Aspen S Feb 8
i cannot seem to forget
the smallness i had become.
bruised thighs
and sunken eyes
were my reality;
my skin was devoid of
any nutrients,
fragile and delicate.
i could vanish
into nothingness
like quicksand.

my days bled into
one another,
fingers frozen,
heart barely beating,
lungs hardly breathing.
i stared down the
barrel of the gun,
wished to purge my urges,
sat in an endlessly deep
pool of misery until
drowning was all i could do.

i replaced food with air,
consuming empty calories
and dug knives into
my skin as a personal hobby.

i am an open would
that never heals,
and i am desperate
to move on.
a poem on my eating disorder. i thought i had come far only to relapse within a year. here's to starting over.
Kole J McNeil Jan 17
A tourture that breaks and distorts my mind
Every calorie cafrefully chosen
Written in a journal
Every thing ive eaten since 8th grade
No breakfast
Running out the door a weitght in my stomach
No lunch
Drinking a monster
10 more calories than I need
Vaping in the bathroom
Dinner
Dreaded dinner
I have to sit and eat with my family
No excuses
Work it off after dinner
Do I go there
Do I sit on the floor racking my lungs
I can feel the fat settle on my bones
Crying myself to sleep
Repeat
I struggle majorly with my eating. I feel like a failure if i eat over 300 calories in a day
Jane Nov 2021
You think I'm pretty? You don't think I should change?
Not by a single gram I won't, I promise Anna.

It's my friend Anna, she's always here for me.
Anna, I don't want to think, tell me what to do,
Yes, thank you Anna, I'll calculate those for you.

Did you say I look perfect Anna?
I can maintain perfect by being perfect.
I can be precise Anna, I promise, don't leave.

Anna, that's a lot of calculating.
Sorry Anna, you're right, perfection takes hard work.
I'm unafraid of toil.

Anna, I'm worried Anna, I can't stop feeling.
Think? I can over think to stop the feeling.
I'll gladly overthink than to over feel.
You're right Anna, I can numb it.

Anna, I'm craving something.
You're right Anna, I will never have that.

Anna, I never told you what I craved.
I craved love Anna, I craved safety.
I'm hungry for a meaningful life Anna.
Please feed those to me.

Why don't you give me what you promised Anna?
You became a liar Anna, but love is blind and I need you.

Speak for me Anna, lie for me Anna.
Anna others want to feed me, Anna, I don't know what they're feeding me Anna, stop them, it's unsafe where it's uncertain.

Yes, what Anna said, I already ate.
When?
Anna, they're catching on Anna, do something.

Anna, I'm hungry, Anna.
I've been keeping you alive to keep myself dead.

Anna please,
I starved myself, to feed Anna.
Gracie Anne Oct 2021
Yesterday I looked at myself in the mirror
And although I tried to take the advice given to me by my therapist
I was unable to find a single thing I might even just tolerate about myself.
Instead, my mind and heart raced each other, trying to see who would win the prize of defeating me
as I scan my naked body for each and every inconsistency and insufficiency.

You see my first memory of self hatred comes from a place most people could not predict.
Imagine me at six years old standing in the shower, so proud of myself
For finally graduating from the bathtub I had associated with childhood.
I had just finished reading “Falling Up” by Shel Silverstein.
And out of the more than 400 poems by this poet one stuck to my brain
Like peanut butter on the roof of my mouth after eating a PB&J.

Now if you’ll forgive me for getting off track for just this moment
I’d like to read you this poem entitled “Scale.”

“If I could only see the scale,
I’m sure that it would state
That I’ve lost ounces...maybe pounds
Or even tons of weight.
‘You’d better eat some pancakes-
You’re skinny as a rail.’
I’m sure that’s what the scale would say…
If only I could see the scale.”

If you’ve ever read a poem by Shel Silverstein you’d know that each of them
Are accompanied by an illustration.
This particular poem is positioned next to a drawing of a person standing on a scale
Unable to see the number because their stomach juts out just far enough
To block their view of the information that scale is providing.
I remember looking down at my naked body
Only to realize that i also could not see my feet.
My childish, growing, prepubescent tummy obstructed my view of my toes.
And I remember thinking for the first time, “Wow, I am fat.”
And that same feeling has followed me throughout these subsequent years.
Throughout elementary, middle, high school and beyond.
My dysmorphic perspective has been a shadow of which I could not shake.
And try as I might, deep down I knew that this was my fate.

I started restricting what I ate starting in 6th grade.
-I counted calories lost and gained and measured my size by the tightness of a tank top.
I watched videos of people like Eugenia Cooney,
and inspired myself through the photos I saw of
Emaciated girls kept alive by feeding tubes.
I was 12.
-I was diagnosed with Ee Dee En Oh Ess in the summer of seventh grade.
EDNOS is a catch-all eating disorder characterized by the characteristics you lacked
To be able to gain the coveted name brand DSM-5 diagnosis of anorexia.
-This I considered to be my failure.
To not qualify because of a lack of being underweight was all I needed for motivation.
So I doubled down on my efforts to lose weight and by the age of fourteen
I had finally achieved that which I so...craved.
I was the best. The skinniest. The one people whispered about in the halls and I had all the attention I could ever dream of getting.
And I was happy.
Wasn’t I?

Skip ahead to now and you will know my comeback story.
Seven years of weekly therapy, numerous psych ward stays, and one near-death experience
I can finally say that I am at a stable and healthy weight.
I continue to despise my body, but now I have the tools and mechanisms to be able to fight off the demon I had nicknamed “Ana”.
-And while I still cannot say that I truly love myself the way I am,
Slowly and steadily I continue to improve.
And I hope that one day I can look into that mirror, take in all my flaws and still be able to tell little 6 year old Grace…
“Sweet girl, you will be okay”.
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