Crafty, they say, He's getting crafty crafty with my lies and my made-up meals crafty with my sound-blocking tactics crafty with hiding the burning lines of white and red. Baking, they say, He's getting into baking baking my binges baking my restriction baking my omad baking my sad-looking low-cal low-fat low-sugar low-carb high-protein 'meal'. Crochet, they say, He's getting into crochet crocheting ankle warmers to make my legs look skinny half-finger gloves in an attempt to curb the permafrost that has begun to knit itself around my bones. Healthy, they say, He's getting healthy as i workout until i faint and do sit-ups until i have bruises on my spine. fruit and veg and vitamins take priority and suddenly i have taken an interest in running.
Someday my bones will protrude, pushing up like daisies across the fields of my skin, because I have died over and over, every day I died, and this one last time I will be beautiful and sunken in, and this last time Ana will have controlled me; when Ana said she wanted me dead, I knew she would someday make it happen. Because I cannot afford to be saved, someday I will be the one the funeral is for.
Girls as sweet as cream, as pastries wispy, airy, baby fairy Weeping girls with their lovely flushed cheeks I stand before you and my knees grow weak I stand before you, and my soul grows meek Do you see my heart shatter like a dropped antique? Cuz I’m small, but not dainty Small, not faint of heart too loud, too much, not enough and I know You’d much better love a girl as sweet as apple **** Cuz how can I be your Ophelia when my tragedy isn’t piteous? and how could I be worth loving if my body is so, so hideous? Or if my lips aren’t kissable? My heart not worth devouring? What beauty does a young girl have if she’s not worth deflowering?
The delicate fragility of white girlhood feels so unattainable, and yet, I long to be seen as desirable in the way they are.
The scariest part of any eating disorder is the true belief you have control, that all the restricting and exercising is just a normal part of weight loss. Till one day the realization hits the realization being that you in fact are not in control of your thoughts or actions. Now, whether it be by the words of someone else or your own inner thought. A carefully constructed facade of control comes crumbling down as you try desperately to pick up the pieces and put it back together, but the knowledge is too much to forget. From then on you have to live with that knowledge and all the things that come with an eating disorder.
Idk if this applies to every ed but I’m anorexic and it took me almost a year to realize it