It’s been 48 hours since food last touched my lips
48 hours of pain and starvation
I don’t mean to starve myself
I just can’t help it
I look at myself in the mirror;
With disgust and disapproval
I am not choosing the hunger
But when I look at food, I automatically become sick
I think of the times I’ve cried over my body
The hours I’ve spend ridiculing every stretchmark,
Fat roll,
Wrinkle,
Every inch of myself that is less than subpar in my eyes
Do you think I want to be like this?
I sit and sleep;
instead of eat
My stomach growls
Sounds like thunder on a dry summers day
Speaking to me and telling me to stop being a ******* idiot
I tell you I haven’t eaten and your response is clear
But what does it matter to me what you think
At the end of the day you aren’t the one whose hungry
You aren’t the one who pushes her body to the point of breaking all in the name of beauty
Oh to be beautiful
Seems so easy
Especially when those words roll off your tongue
But I flinch in pain
As my body begins to eat itself
And you sense something is wrong
I tell you I’m fine
But based off the look on my face;
you know it’s not just a stomach ache

Mirror mirror on the wall
Am I this ugly?
Or I’m I imagining this all?

Mirror mirror are you there?
I need your help
Don’t let me sink into dispair

Mirror mirror tell me please
I’m I this awful?
Or is it really a mental disease?

Mirror mirror you’ve taken too long
Answer a simple question
Do I really look this wrong?

Mirror mirror whatever your answer will be
I’ve now decided not to care
And to set my soul free...

If I could sit you down and make you understand my mind I would
I want to love you
I want to be loved by you
It's not that easy
Relationships are a love triangle
You, me, and my brain
My intrusive thoughts don't know when to shut up
A protective friend
A possessive ex
Always there
Hard to ignore
Eventually you'll grow tired of them popping up
But they can't be blocked
Can't put a restraining order on my mind

I’ve always felt insecure
About my body,
Knowing
That if I’d start talking
About how I feel towards
The bones you could see,
And
The curves you could not,
You’d call me crazy.

I’ve learnt not to be frightened
Anymore.
I’ve learned to say,
“Look, being skinny isn’t always
So much fun either.”
I’ve learnt to be proud and
I am on my way
To love myself.

I’d like to think of
My body
As delicate.

As a form of beauty,

Like the leaves on trees,
Like the water running down in riverbanks,
Like the sunlight cracking through stormy clouds.

// a form of beauty – nautilus poetry

Insecurity unnerving.
Innate need to feel deserving.
There’s so much I aspire to be.
But no success has been for me.

Capturing all the love that’s near,
While to be unloved is my fear.
Wishing this thought could be unlearned--
Feeling that love has been unearned.

Sometimes I wish I could just live,
Without this tired narrative.
That my ambition for success,
Based not on fear I’d be loved less.

Who needs to stand out from the crowd
Just to make the pretty girls proud?
Nothing I’ve done has been my own.
I’ve just been scared to be alone.

I’ve done so little just for me.
And now I see the irony.
At last admired and adored,
For motivations I abhorred.

Skin
Fingernails, moonlight, low-light
What’s the beast in the mirror I see?
It stares at me, it’s features moaning a sad soliloquy
I find it’s eyes, green, green, the colour of envy
Envy. Envy.
I find myself stretching skin.
Skin, it’s anthropomorphism deeply disturbs me
Why can’t I take it off
Peel it off, rip it off, burn it off, cut it off
Snip, snip
The more I stare the more it crumbles, it crumbles
I paint it’s mask with lacquer but the same pair of green eyes stare at me
What is that, who is that beast
The low-light consoles me but still I see it for what is
Me

I'm not an obvious kind of pretty
I don't have natural blonde hair
Or bright blue eyes
No perky little *****
No gap between my thighs
I don't look like anyone else
I bleach my own hair
Use drug store eyeshadow
Wear dresses from the clearance rack
That show the red bumps after shaving my legs

I have lumps and bumps
Cellulite and pudge
Blackheads and bacne
A recipe for nothing special at all
Just someone average
Who has a bright twinkle
In her **** brown eyes
And curvy hips
That sway in the sun

You have to look close
To see all my beauty
I'm not a model
Or a ******* bunny
Just someone on the sidelines
Watching the models and bunnies
While they get the attention
And I get brushed by
It's not obvious that I'm beautiful
Until you look into my eyes
Until you see my semi-white smile
Then you notice the little moles
The silver scars
The way my body curves
In a voluptuous way
And you see
Just how perfect I am

I despise social media.
It's ugly, to state the obvious
Our lives are posted, re-tweeted, altered, re-blogged, perfected, and photo shopped to exactly how we want to be perceived
We have the freedom to be exactly what they want us to be.

It starts with a few edits doesn't it,
pigmented our skin to seem smooth and sun kissed,
that would seem most acceptable right?
Maybe an extra like for the skinnier waist.
More reassurance for brighter colors.
Some more filters will hid the emptiness you feel with your friends
   Another like
Flashier clothing, phones, shoes, cars, other simple words our eyes have latched on to
     Another like
We urge ourselves to portray the life of leisure and effortless beauty, happiness, success,
       Another like
But what are we enjoying?
         Another like
Views of our changing world through a 3 by 8 view.
           Another like
Events pass by swipe
             Another like
and swipe
               Another like

And when we managed to unlock ourselves from this grasp
We always come back
Like flies to light, more like scratches to a scab
Festering we find ourselves getting ****** back in
To an imaginary world, that if destroyed, would have no physical effects on their fictional beings
For without this world, maybe eyes will open
We will step past the boundaries,
and start to love our beings
unfiltered