Everyone thinks i recovered months ago, that i'm so so happy and have no problems.

Cause i'm the girl watching mlp, and listening to songs about smiling and laughing.

But what they don't know is that at home i listen to songs about depression and eating disorders .

I no longer cut, cause i haven't felt the need to for a while, and i no longer starve, i just forget it sometimes.

Sometimes i forget that i'm recovering.
And i simply don't think about eating.
Or about singing the smile song when my friends are sad.

It's like i'm pinkie pie, sometimes i'm happy, but sometimes i also forget that i'm a party pony

I try to look my best, and people can't tell how sad i get every now and then.
Cause i try.. I really do..

The shirt that once hung loose from my shoulders, hugs me as tight as a small child does to its parent on the first day of swim lessons.

Shorts and pants that I used to swim in, now fit maybe a little too snugly.

And the weight I want to lose like a pair of glasses, or a set of keys, keeps adding up like apples in a math problem.

Does the saying "it will get worse before it gets better," have to apply to everything?

Maybe my shirts will hang lose again, just as the children get used to the water in time.

Maybe the snugness of my pants will wear old, and my bottoms will go back to needing belts to hold them up.

Maybe a friend named Sam will need some apples, and we will learn to subtract.

Maybe I will feel safe eating one of those apples, without wanting to throw it back up again.

Sometimes I think that I never want to give up this disordered habit of mine.

And other times I know it will never do me any good.

Behind brown eyes a shadow walks
Children love
And hearts break
Behind brown eyes blood is spilled
Secrets are kept
And lies are like oxygen
Behind brown eyes are left over feelings when
She kills herself inside
And buries the hatchet
Behind brown eyes lies a secret
Blood that burns
And metal that soothes
Behind brown eyes hunger waits
For an answer
And the answer never comes
Behind brown eyes lies Ana
Ana who is cold
And Ana who lies
Behind brown eyes is a broken soul
Who believes she is unfixable
And believes she is unloveable
Behind brown eyes lies me

Yesterday morning I remembered the comfort of hunger pains.
I ate as little as possible at lunch,
and didn't eat when I got home.

For the first time in almost a year,
I skipped dinner
and looked at photos of bodies I wanted to have.

For so long I was able to eat without worry,
and I never thought about skipping meals,
I was able to change the idea of a "weight goal"
To simply having a goal to be happy.

What is happening to me?

"'Mom, I'm tired.."
I said, as I walked slowly towards her
My arms weighing me down
Hanging by my sides, T-shirt no sweater

"Go take a nap sweetheart"
She replied in a sweet, soothing tone
Wish I had said something more
Cause where I'm going, there isn't a phone..

I've withered and got down to my goal
It's a shame more people didn't realize,
No one took it serious enough
I never felt like I was the right size

I couldn't feel anymore neither happiness nor pain
If this is what it took then I'm glad the job is done
I loved you all so much so please forgive me
But I think this nap will be my last one

If your mother doesn’t tear us apart
I will

And I’ll do so without realizing it
Until I’ve pushed you far away and out of my reach

I hate hurting you
And I despise that my dislike toward myself is what hurts you most

I want this to be easier
I crave for the two of us to stand in the sun

The warm waves caressing my skin
And your hand in mine

Yet I continue to lurk in the shadows
The darkness is my security blanket

I see you standing with your hand stretched out
Begging me to just grab ahold and leave the secrets behind

But you know that I am afraid
My self-destruction is there when no one else is

You ask me to promise self-preservation
But how can I do so when I’ve failed again and again?

Feet inch closer to me and I shove
With all my might

I won’t let the darkness take you too

I was 11 when change happened.
Chubby yet barely developed.
Something laid dormant in my skin.
Waiting.

The waiting ended and the wickedness rose.
The dimples on my cheeks,
Stopped caving.
The light in my eyes went dark.

The monsters under my bed started to appear in my head.
I was starving.
Starving for an outlet and sustenance to keep me alive.

Purging on control and the need for something more.
I first tried scissors,
Trying to see how thick the skin on my suddenly thin wrists
Were.

I needed more.
I took apart my sisters razor to dig deeper.

What I found was a burned esophagus.
Bad breathe.
Thin hair.
Long sleeves in the middle of summer.
And clothes four sizes too big.

5 years.
6 suicide notes.
10,952 secret scars.
There was just no other way of feeling.

You ask me, what anorexia is like.

It's like slipping or twisting your ancle without anyone seeing, no one to help you up.
You sit until someone comes by, they help you up, but after a while you slip again.
This time your sitting in mud and slowly sinking into it.
And when you're two feet into that hole, a person comes by and tries to help you since your anvle is hurt.
But you're afraid they'll fall too so you ask them to leave.
You start to crawl out and finally get up, but slip again.
You fall down in that hole again, and this time you beoke your entire leg.
It starts raining and the hole grows deeper.
It's 5 feet deep now.
One of your well known friends comes by and tries to help you, but ends up throwing you a shovel.
But actually you start to like your hole, you take contact to people, who also fell into a hole.
There are sites on the internet, some shows how to get the deepesr mist perfect hole.
Other shows how to get up.
But you're sad, and you like your hole, so you try to get that deepesr one.
You want to win this, you wanna show everyone who called you weak that you can get the deepest hole in the world.
But when you're 20 feet under ground, and everyone starts to notice your hole.
Everyone is willing to help you.
And suddenly you have 20 shovels, and 20 stairs.
But you can't decide wich one is better.
*That's what being anorexic is like

Is it part of my past if I can't quite get rid of it?
past
adj.
gone in time and no longer existing
So maybe all of the things that I thought were done with,
are part of my present,
present
noun.
the period of time now occurring.
Still able to show up at any moment and remind me that it never truly left;
only decided to give me a break for a while.
Maybe I am pitted against myself in the most dangerous way possible.
Taking myself to the breaking point,
but never going past it, because it's always funner the longer it goes on.
When will the low hit? Will the low hit?
Is it more fun to watch myself panic during the night wondering how things will fall apart, always walking on broken glass because even a small cut in the fabric would mean being torn to shreds. The ends being pulled until I am finally undone. Until I am finally done.