Ed came to stay when she was 12
No one invited him.
He snuck in through the sliding door,
for the girl who needed some sense of control.

He told her he would help her,
he would always be her friend.
Self-control was what she needed
And he’d teach her all the tricks.
Move your food around,
bring it to your mouth,
then ask about your sister’s day.
It was their little secret
and he’d teach her how to keep it.

So he lived inside the mirror,
fostering disease.
He showed her a reflection
but it wasn’t really hers.

Ed came to stay when Reba was 12
But he didn’t just come for a visit
He grew stronger in the hollows of her sunken cheek,
and the jutting of her narrow hips.

We found Ed six years later,
When zeros became double zeros
And weak legs gave way on the sixth step
Six years and we hadn’t noticed
Ed carving out her rib cage and collar bones
Until there was nothing of her left.
And just Ed.

bone chilling moments
aren't what they seem to be.

my body resembles a corpse,
freezing to the tips of my toes,
with an ice cold heart
beating just enough to keep me alive.

i'm a dead girl walking,
littered in lanugo and
blue bruised, broken ribs,
and paper thin skin
caving in on itself
as if collapsing is inevitable.

bile inhabits my stomach,
yet hunger will always be
the second most important anyway.

pink, swollen cheeks are
replaced by hollow caverns
not even bears want to enter.

"i am an iceberg drifting to
the edge of the map,"
a girl who wants to be real-
but can't.

the blizzard winds in my head
have become too heavy to thaw out
and i can slowly feel my carcass of a body
cast away with the rest of my past.

i am gone.
  
                                    i am free.

I sat staring into space,
My life a mess my mind a state.
Listening to this voice in my head,
I followed its demand, to destruction I was led

‘Don’t eat’ it said ‘it will make you fat’,
therefore I listened and with that,
my body became frail, freezing and tired.
I was left alone to suffer, broken and battered.

‘Don’t add milk, skip your snack,
you don’t need lunch, it will make you fat’.
‘Think about your figure, your stomach your legs,
your unworthy already your better of dead’

As weight I lost, my happiness disappeared.
Feeling numb was an emotion I began to not fear.
Hunger became normal, a comfort a ‘pleasure’
Just throw it away, it will make you look ‘better’.

‘You are disgusting and worthless’, it penetrated my thoughts
A disease, an illness harnessed its grip on my mind.
Abbi had gone, eyes glazed over,
my skin all grey, a corpse I embodied.

It pulled me backwards, isolation was key,
but the voice didn't care as it was harming me.
My mind, my body, soul all blurred into one,
a girl that was once happy had completely gone.

Anxiety spiralled my life out of control,
fooled me in thinking I could still withhold,
the anguish, the terror that my eating disorder craved,
I wanted nothing more than to finally cave.

For too long, I watched others suffer,
screaming and shouting ‘just eat, what’s the matter’.
A simple comment made me change,
‘STOP killing yourself, you can get through the pain’

So body, I think this is terribly overdue,
I’m sorry for putting you in so much pain, abusing you.
I began feeding you with food, a nutrient, a need.
And with that I started putting on weight,
to get healthy, strong, NOT FAT!

Guilt was intense, relapse a strong thought I struggled to prevent.
But Rex is weak and I am strong,
So I keep eating and fighting,
I’m not going to respond.

My dreams are more important that looking a certain way.
I want to live my life without a voice dictating what I do or say.

Living rather than dying, happy rather than sad.
A simple diction of acceptance, I had to finally grab.

Abbi Jordan, 17 years old. In recovery and fighting, 6 months and counting.