it’s 2pm PST
my PTSD is eating me
ring finger on control key
my poor and lonely body

Who am i?
When the scars are stripped away
the obsessions gone
the compulsions unneeded
When i don't know the taste of serotonin on my tongue
the disappointment of looking in the mirror
or the bite of metal against my stomach
When i am myself again,
bare of the illnesses that have weighed me down
Who will i be?

"Your hair will fall out"
"You'll faint and pass out"
"Why must you hurt yourself?"

I don't mean to, I swear
I try to recover
Each time I fail

Skin and bones are what I desire
At least that's what my mind tells me
As my body is starving, fading away

Recovery is hard
Relapse is familiar
My eating disorder is killing me

Maybe I'm just not meant to be small
or light
Maybe I'll forever exist outside of
what i have been taught is "beautiful"
Maybe some day I'll accept this
not today, maybe not for a while, but
I look forward to that day.

It has been a while since I have written here

My poems were dark and full of despair

Now I need to declare.


I was very sick,
I didn’t have much of a personality

My body was giving up,
and my mind was full of anxiety

I needed time and help,
to heal my head and heart

It may be a bit silly,
but I can finally say that I can add chocolate to my shopping cart.

TW:ED

As I stand there with the end of my toothbrush sitting on my lips
I think to myself,
“But if I just did it once no one would know”
And I could feel the satisfaction of an empty stomach;
The walls of it clinging to my ribs.
If I just did it once,
I could see if it works.
If it would allow me to look into the mirror
And not hate the girl who stares back at me.
Her stretch marks growing larger and darker
Though she doesn't know why,
Because she can barely bring herself to eat one meal a day.
What's stopping this fragile, broken girl from ending her pain,
And finally being happy
With who she sees in the mirror.
What's stopping her from finally being able to please her mother
Who groans and stares
When she goes back for a second plate of food.
What's stopping her from fitting the beauty standard,
And being loved and praised by all who see her.

But for some reason
Even eating practically nothing everyday
Does not change the girl she sees looking back at her;
Watching the numbers on the scale go up
As her happiness rapidly declines.
And seeing the look in her mothers eyes
As she wonders why you're eating everything
Yet nothing all at the same time.