Have I succeeded?
As I sit in the kitchen,
Surrounded by sensation and temptation,
Bread and milk and cheese and
Everything I’ve tried to leave
Behind and I don’t eat,
Sipping on the mug of tea in front of me,
Ignoring pangs of hunger, telling me
I can’t go on much longer...
Have I succeeded?

It’s not an addiction;
really, it’s not.
But that mirror,
it’s the source of my confliction.

Not long ago,
I could look in that mirror
and see nothing wrong at all,
but now, I’ve got nothing to show.

The pressure to always be perfect,
it tears away at my body.
At first, it looked like nothing,
but it had side effects.

I wanted to be one of them,
one of those girls that they all envied.
But the price to pay was my body,
not a small diamond gem.

It was never enough,
No matter what I did.
Those skipped meals,
Turned my image rough.

I stare and ask myself,
will it ever be worth it?
My image in the mirror,
Kept begging for me to quit.

It became a nightly thing,
Standing on that scale.
And I was always pleased to see,
That the pounds kept on dropping.

My hair had started to thin,
My bones began to show.
Everything was different.
The desire was starting to win.

The pain I was putting myself through,
the constant suffering,
everything was just a blur,
but nobody ever knew.

I don’t starve anymore.
But I could if I tried,
It was a part of my life,
Now it’s just a closed door.

It’s not an addiction,
Really, it’s not.
But that mirror,
It’s the source of my affliction.

if it hurts
you’re doing it right.

graceful arms, girls.

pointed feet.

plié, plié…
first position, long legs, extend your necks- yes, that’s right.





i just wanna look like a ballerina again.

I wanna hear my stomach collapse
Rumbling like screams echoing in an empty tavern
I want stalactite ribs
And stick-man fingers,
Thighs the size of a child’s wrist and
I don’t care what I have to do
To get it

I am obsessed.
Addicted to falling,
Falling numbers,
Falling deeper into disorder, disrepair,
Falling for a girl named Ana
Who tells me I can have everything that I want
For easy daily payments of pain and despair.

But, it feels oh so good to be hungry.
Aches and pains make me high,
And sure, it’s scary knowing I could die but
At this point…
Maybe I’d be okay with that if I get to live one day
At 100 pounds.

What is wrong with me?

no matter how much i sleep, rest, or nap i'm exhausted
i've taken to yawning in my favorite class.

no matter how easy i take it, my body still aches when i move
it's frankly rather disquieting.

no matter how much i clear out of my head, i'm still hurting
letting go of difficult situations is hard.

no matter how ahead i get, i'm still stressed for the next thing
the rapidity of life is eating away at me.

no matter how kind i am to those around me, i still know shame
impulsivity of emotion is a thinker's nightmare.

no matter how much faith i have, i still feel uncertain
my god is for me, but it feels like life is against me.

no matter how mature i am, i am still undercut by those older than me
focusing on the positive is not going to be theraputic right now.

no matter how much control i have, i'm still shackled to my anxiety
i cannot just "calm down" to ease your or my own conscience.

no matter how many decisions i make, there is still much left undone
slowing down is a luxury, one i take guiltily and not without consequence.

no matter how much i improve, i'm still bound to expectation of perfection
humanity is not perfect, and neither am i, broken and inadequate, but we try, oh we try.

no matter how much joy is in my life, i still feel the crushing weight of depression.
i said i was doing better

no matter how much i am validated by my loved ones, i still hurt myself
my eating disorder has infected my system completely, down to my bones.

no matter how many breaks i take i'm still being driven into the ground
crying because of household tasks is pathetic.

no matter how much i try to pretend life is not stressful,  it's
digging itself into my heart and soul.

i am not okay, and those who know it are trying to keep themselves afloat
i can't escape this tired, this exhausted, no matter how hard i try.

For all my life I’ve been a woman obsessed
With taking up as little space as possible
To shrink my waist
And sink my cheeks

I’ve been a woman obsessed
With being heard as little as possible
To bite my tongue and not interrupt
To keep the ******* curse words in

I’ve been a woman obsessed
With winning the hearts of others
To see the twinkle in their eye when they smile at me

But I am thick, and I am loud, and I forgot to love myself.

Something about this house...

The table where I sat and wept
In silence so they wouldn’t hear
Waiting until they were all asleep
To eat next to nothing

The couch where I laid
Catatonic for hours
Staring into the TV screen
To lose myself in other worlds

The stairs where I fell
Because I was so weak
Then I screamed that I was fine
Realizing something was very wrong

The shower where I could sob
Where the sound was drowned
Eyes closed so hard I saw spots
Begging for existence to stop

The entry where I greeted guests
There to congratulate my graduation
I had to endure so many, “You look so great!”s
And pretend I had already eaten

My room...
So many memories...
Scraping the skin off with my nails
Questioning my will to live
Sleepless nights in anguish
Only to rest from the exhaustion of crying
Praying for my sanity

This house...

I’m so **** scared
Of relapsing
So I play these games
Distract myself
Even as the feelings creep in
I tell myself a different story
Make up some excuse
Point them anywhere else
But now I’m so confused
I can’t remember what were lies
Except for the one truth:
I’m so **** scared
Of relapsing

You wake up beside her every morning,
She draws your curtains and blocks the sun, says,
“Sleep a moment more” and wraps herself
Around your waist, painted red fingernails
Dig into your sides and you suddenly find
You can’t see through the salt in your eyes.

Her tongue tangles with your lashes as she
Licks the salt away, saying,
“Shh, babe, they can’t know I’m here.”
She peppers your face with pecks,
Less like loving caress and more like bites but
To tell her “No,” has proved futile time and time again.

She stands behind you in the mirror, runs her hands
Over your body, leaving ice in the wake of her fingers,
Pinching your hips and thighs while she sighs,
“Oh, my light,
Why don’t you listen to me more?”

She catches your lips with every bite of breakfast,
Saying, “No, dearest, don’t give in,”
Kisses you senseless, but you just can’t tell if you’re euphoric
Or insane.

The taste of chocolate,
A knife in the gut,
It’s all the same to her.
So now you’re bleeding out on the floor,
And you wish that metallic taste really was a blade,
At least to swallow that would bring darkness instead of shame.
“The blood in your mouth has a calorie count,”
So you know it won’t be long until she takes that too.

when you left
a part of me never recovered
no food could sustain me
the way your touch did
so nothing passed my lips,
i was left a ruin
standing but empty
forgotten and left to wither
shrinking smaller
with each sunset
but all people could tell me
was how good i looked.