it’s just a word
that’s what i tell myself
so the breath doesn’t leave my body when i see it
or hear it
but for some reason
those 8 letters shake me to my core
they make me lose all thought
all reason
all sense of normal
and i don’t know why
because it’s me
i don’t know why those eight letters
have that much power over me

maybe it’s because i’ve read it a million times in my textbooks
seeing the stats
and pictures with the stick thin girls
looking in the mirror
maybe it’s because i can’t admit to myself
i actually am those statistics
i cant process that i’m the word
because it’s only in textbooks
it’s only in the movies
that’s not who i am
that will never be me
maybe it’s because i don’t see myself as it
i don’t see myself as the girl in the textbook
or as a percentage in a chart
i don’t see myself as a definition
or something people study
something that people can’t understand  

or maybe it’s because i hate the word
because it only reminds me of complete and utter pain that used to be my life
maybe it remind me of everything i lost
or that were robbed from me i should say
my happiness, my passion, my life
my entire life was taken by those eight letters
so maybe that’s why i cant bear to even look at them

maybe it’s because that means i am it
maybe if i see the word too many times
or say it enough
it will become me
it will be who i am now
and what am i then
i’m not alive that’s for sure
what am i if that’s all i am
if that’s who i’ve become now
what do i have
if my whole existence is based upon those 8 letters

i wish i could tell you
i really do
because i want to to know too
i want to know why i flinch at the sight of the word
why i cant stand to hear it
let alone have it leave my mouth
i want to sit here and tell you
that i’m better
and those 8 letters are behind me
but to be honest i don’t think they ever will be
maybe that’s it
maybe that’s what i’m afraid of
never being able to forget it
or past it
just stuck with it
being haunted by it every second
because i see it everywhere
it follows me and teases me
everywhere i go
so maybe if i don’t say it
it will leave me alone forever

or maybe just maybe
the word makes it all a little too real

maybe when i say it
i feel the pain
and hurt
that i used to
i see the joy i was robbed of
for so long
i see who i was before
i see it all so clearly when i see that word
and maybe that
is just too real to handle

how do you tell someone
you’re losing yourself again
how do you tell the people who love you
you can’t eat anymore
how do you tell them you feel like you’re going to faint every minute of everyday
and all you can do is lay in bed
and when you do get out of bed
the world goes black for a minute
how do you explain the constant headache
the constant pain in your head
not just from the malnourishment
but from the thoughts you can’t stop
the ones you can’t ever slow down
how do you explain that to them

how do you say you’re so completely ******* exhausted of this
that you don’t want any of this
that you resent yourself for thinking this way
but at the exact time
you can’t let go of it
with all the brittle strength inside of you
you can’t get rid of this
so you sit exhausted
during the happiest time of the year
just wishing that this time a year ago
you weren’t like this
life wasn’t this hard
every waking second

a year ago you could get out of bed
you didn’t feel like throwing up every second because you’re migraine is eating away the tiny thing you call your body
every inch of it
a year go you could bring yourself to brush your teeth and take a shower
it didn’t seem like an unbeatable task
it seemed like life
to be frank, you didn’t think twice of it
a year ago

how do you explain
every time you wake up
you miss life
you miss living
because it doesn’t feel like life right now
when you fight with yourself to eat
when nourishing your body seems like a tall feat
life isn’t quite the same
so your life now is dreaming of a life before all this
before every part of your life didn’t seem like a task and a burden
before you pushed everyone away
and locked yourself alone

how do you tell them all this
because i hear it when i say it
how crazy it sounds
i see it in their eyes
when i’m crying about having a sandwich
because the thought of bread and calories makes my whole world collapse
i understand how absurd i sound
i do
don’t worry

so what do i do?
go back to treatment
and have to weigh myself
and take my blood pressure
to see if insurance thinks i’m sick enough to pay to help me get better

do i talk to people about my feelings
because that makes me feel even more crazy

do i tell my therapist
because i haven’t seen her in months
because i was okay for a point of time

or do i call my doctor
so she can tell me that my nausea and migraines are just because i’m not eating enough
and how i’m destroying myself
how dangerous this is

what do i do
tell me
because all that’s keeping me together
the only thing that makes me hold on
is a year ago
when i wasn’t losing myself.

I have this vintage dress
it's green
Silk
Gorgeous
every six months I try it on
every six months it doesn't fit
this time
it fit my waist
but I couldn't fit my arms into it
I tried so hard I ripped it
You must be thinking
Just buy a new dress
But to buy a new dress is to admit I am me
Not the skinny thing I long to be
To buy a new dress
Is admitting they were right
That he was right
That I am just going to be fat and alone forever
so now my focus
is on making my arms slim
arm fat exercises
googled and practiced
I'm going to fit into that dress
even if it kills me
you can bury me in it
I'll be the thinnest prettiest corpse you've ever seen

Counting... Always... Counting.

A cup of herbal tea, maybe with some sugar.
If I feel up to it.

Maybe some soup, grilled cheese.
If I can stomach it.

Dinner. Whatever mom makes.
My only supervised meal.

Tired, all day... Every day.
Drowning in college papers.

The curves I worked so hard to get back...
Well. They're nearly gone.

Protruding hip bones,
Protruding collar bones,
Boney fingers,
Pale skin,
Fantastic figure and pretty ribs,
Cold toes and bad circulation.

Heart murmurs... Shaky breathing... Migraines... Exhaustion... Confusion... Lethargy... Weight loss

Shaking, Shaking, Shaking...
Shivering?

Gotta go make a cuppa, warm up a bit.

But... what's left for me to be healthy for, anyway?

I'll take a bath to warm up instead






Probably.

i never understood the phrase
home is where the heart is
until i was shaking on the floor of
my hospital room and it was nothing
but walls
and even when i found the energy to
decorate with cliché little things
like fairy lights, posters, my
skeletal “art”
i felt the room swallow me whole
until i was nothing but a grain of sand
my new roommate was a wrinkly zucchini-girl
and i tried not to speak to her
but we heard each other cry in the night
and we never said a word
but i could feel her eyes on me
a girl down the hall
heard me talking about my addiction and
she told me she would pray for me
later that day she pushed me
into a wall and pressed her
lips against mine
then told me i was tempting her,
i was a sin
just waiting to happen
so i sat in the dark outside her room every
night before i went to sleep
and sometimes she would
come out
and hold my hands
and tell me she loved me

i'm tired
i'm so ******* tired.
i didn't ask for any of it-
not the scars, not the pills,
not the anxiety
or obsession
or disordered thoughts
i never wanted this.
because when you're thirteen
you don't think that within the next three years
you'll have four mental illnesses.
nobody ever predicts that they'll have a collection of cuts,
of failed recoveries
and subsequent relapses.
nobody wants to be a burden.
nobody wants to be trapped in their own mind
and i can't tell if it's depression,
or the eating disorder
but God, i'm exhausted.
i don't want to carry this anymore.
(i never did.)

My lover has a scar
Just above her hipbone;
It's not a small ****,
a forgotten accident.
They're words -
Straight lines she etched
Deliberately,
Slowly,
Painfully.

I trace my fingers softly,
Not to wake my love,
But I can't soften their bite.
Words of cruel warning,
An order, imperative.
Commanding, even faded,
Echo a silent scream.

They mock me, mock us,
For they still have a hold:
She is only half mine.
They hurt me, cold,
Like unblinking eyes,
Knowing that she stares back
Every day.

I barely brush them,
Intruders on soft skin,
Indelible scripture
Of darkness within.

And they keep whispering:
don't eat.