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Makenzie Marie Feb 2015
I might as well give up the act
Because I know the impact
And how it will attack
Stabbing me in the back
Every single day
As I stand in front of the mirror
And say that I'm okay;
Blood trickling down my spine
Reminding me that I'm lying.
We all know that it's fake
And what's at stake
(It's my life for goodness sake)
So I guess I'll give in and say,
Though the taste of it is strange...
What better day
Than today
To change
ern kingham Feb 2015
When most people think addiction,
They think cigarettes and nicotine,
They think Alcoholics Anonymous and pain killers gone wrong,
They think gambling, ***, and ****.
They think addiction and they think of use versus abuse
After all the dictionary definition of addiction is:
"a strong and harmful need to regularly have or do something"

Something

Maybe that's why it's so hard for people to see that my lack of use is just as much abuse as the overuse of something.

They don't know that it is just as addicting to keep refusing food, as it is to keep drinking alcohol.

They don't know that keeping too small clothes in the back of the closet,
Hoping that one day your body will mold into them again,
Is just as dangerous as meshing oneself into someone else just for the night, but someone else the next.

They don't understand that counting the calories is just as consuming as counting the grams.

So don't tell me that my eating disorder is not as addicting as drugs, because cravings to be thin can be just as strong as someone's cravings to be high.

The feeling of an empty stomach, can be just as great as the feeling others get while watching ****.

Don't say that my eating disorder is just for attention, because just like addiction it could very well **** me.
Sam Knaus Feb 2015
There are blotches of red marks on my skin, my face,
bags under my eyes, 
I get around 5 hours of sleep most nights 
but every morning I still feel like I haven't slept in a century. 
This is a different kind of pain.
This isn't a migraine, or a stomachache. 
This is more than a stomachache. 
This is waking up every morning to arms full of scars that are so ******* triggering,
A stomach screaming "feed me" but skipping breakfast and lunch 
because I swear to ******* god, I've gained weight. 
This is a different kind of pain. 
This is my first poem in months which is why 
it doesn't fit together perfectly 
but since I penned all of my thoughts about 
my eating disorder, my self harm, my mental illnesses and my boyfriend,
I didn't have anything to say, 
I'd given my voice away by that point 
and that caused a different kind of pain.
This is the first poem I've written in god knows how long. I figured I'd upload it. Sorry about how depressing it is.
Makenzie Marie Feb 2015
I missed the scorching,
burning
screaming in my throat...

But it's like a big red button
an on switch
with no off.
I started something that I don't know how to stop

And now I'm sitting on the bathroom floor typing this up
silently crying
waiting for the next time this volcano will erupt.


I've missed the cold of the porcelain
the whispers of mia:
my fakest friends
reminding me of the stretch marks
forming on my skin
the disgusting nagging coming from within

I'm supposed to be getting better...
I don't want to lie to you...
But I don't want to.
I'm a fetching hypocrite but I've relapsed and honestly my anxiety is gone for the moment. I know it's only going to get worse from here on out but at least I have a release for a few minutes.
Makenzie Marie Feb 2015
"Tame your dragon"
My teacher says...
Can I refuse this assignment?
Make a plan
she instructs...
My plan is to slowly self destruct.
But I don't think that's what you want.
Can I be honest
and say
that today
is not the day,
nor was yesterday,
that I honestly want to change?
I know I should
but I don't really know what to say...
tomorrow, maybe
I'll consider starting.
But it might just be
a distant tomorrow
cuz today my plan is relapsing.
Kelsey Nicole Feb 2015
Like rippling water distorts a reflection,
the mirror reshapes my
stomach,
thighs,
arms.

Buttons unlatch from their holsters,
The zipper loosens its grip,
Exposed are the  things I despise.

Pinching, pulling, pushing.
Nothing changes, all still there.

Not so much a distorted body,
More so a distorted mind.
s Feb 2015
Dancers can't have eating disorders.
We are meant to be thin.
We are made this way
We are made to hide food
to starve
to throw it up
As long as no one sees us
As long as we can fake it
Cause as dancers
We have to fake it till we make it
And we aren't going to make
it if we are as fat as pigs.
People don't like watching hogs dance.
Don't worry the mirrors will tell us if we are the size of a stick or a stump.
So no I don't have an eating disorder
Dancers can't have those.
We are created this way.

{SM}
Liv Feb 2015
words and whispers
are just the same
im numb again
like the number
on the scale
that rises and falls periodically
i will never be enough
its not my fault i promise...
Love Feb 2015
No one knows I skipped my shower last night because I was too depressed to get out of the bed,
that I cried myself to sleep last night because I felt like a dammed *****,
or that I took one look in the mirror and emptied the contents of my stomach last night.
No one knows that I'm not just the smart girl in the front of the class.
Gwen Feb 2015
And at night I can't stop myself from thinking back to when I didn't have a panic attack nearly every night.
To when I honestly believed that my future was bright
To when I didn't count calories and wish I was just skin and bone
To when I didn't have shaky hands and my palms didn't get sweaty by simply walking into a classroom alone.

But now at night I lay on my bed
Trying to escape the things in my head
found this in my drafts from a while ago.
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