She is a monster in the back of my head.
Every bite of food fills me with dread.
“Don’t eat that, you’re already so fat.”
“0 calories a day will make your stomach flat.”
She comes to me in my dreams,
So sickly, so thin.
Her name is Ana.
She is the demon within.
She will pretend to be your friend
Just to get inside your head;
And she will hold on tight.
She will cover you in darkness.
She will mock you out of spite.
She does not forgive.
She does not forget.
Letting her in will be your biggest regret.

What would you think
If you saw my scars?
If you spotted
Those silvery markings
Along my leg?
Would you be angry,
Or hurt,
Because I kept it from you?
Would you be disturbed,
Or shocked,
At the fact that I had done it?
Would you be confused,
Wondering why?
I don’t know.
I hate to keep things from you.
Hate
Hate
Hate it.
But I feel like
I can’t tell you.
I can’t put you through the worry,
The anxiety.
Because honestly,
I’m okay.
Those markings were simply inflicted
In a moment where I wasn’t.
Once I talk about it,
It seems bigger than it is,
And I couldn’t stand to let this
Scare you away,
To let my old hurt
Become your new.
I am sorry,
My love,
But I feel trapped.
I feel
As if my lips are sown shut,
But maybe that’s for the best.

It's the snowball theory
Except it's not a snowball, it's me,
and I got frost bites all over my heart and brain,
My emotions are piling up, just like the books on my shelf,
No tears, no screams, slowly building up to the avalanche.
I lie to myself that I'm healing, because denial is easier than facing the fact that my search for happiness is an end road.

Some people are born to live sad, and I'm their queen.
I manage my kingdom with a national anthem that includes "It'll get better" and "You will be okay"
but I know **** well it won't, we all do,
we're infected with this disease, eating us inside out
killing us slowly, never going away,
and we're constantly looking for an escape,
but what happens when the pills don't work anymore?
when the drugs, the ***, the recklessness does not give you a thrill anymore?
when everything turns numb.

You start thinking of the only resort, the one that has always been in the back of your mind
high buildings, sharp objects, ropes, and the deep cold end of the ocean
darkness, silence, isolation.
the feeling of all your worries floating above you, flirting with the moon,
while your body is rested underneath, your soul escapes,
free of your body, your now bloodless heart, and your soul
it's now with the angels, laughing with the stars, looking down...

is this what comes after? no one knows, but I take comfort in thinking there must be something better for people like us, people who live in constant agony, fighting battles with themselves, making amends with their demons,
because no matter how much I try to win, it's always a losing game.

maybe it's me, maybe I'm looking through a black veil.
sometimes I think, why can't I be like other people?
who fight normal battles, seeing the world in colours,
while the only color I see, people don't,
the color of my world, is misery.

It gets worse
At night.
When all the lights are off,
When I'm completely
Alone.
The feeling
Can be overwhelming.
This heavy, black
Misery.
This pulsating, pointless
Anger.
I'm driven to tears
By my frustration at
And fear of
Things that are far, far
Beyond my control.
When I am in this feeling,
It is real.
It is so,
Scarily real.
But the next morning,
It's gone.
Some sadness may linger,
But that blackness
Is gone.
It's like
It was never real.
And I don't know how to fight this,
When almost all of the time,
It isn't real to me.
So I make it real.
I make sure
That this feeling
Is remembered.
I write about it,
I mark it into my skin,
Letting the faint scars remain,
So I can look at them
And remember that
The black feeling is real.
That forgetting about it
Won't make it go away.
It'll just render me blissfully ignorant
Until the feeling comes back,
And there I am again,
Exactly where I was last time,
Feeling like this is the first time I've ever
Broken down in this way.
Then I feel like a child
Without any experience,
Any means
Of dealing with this.
I mark myself
So I don't forget
That what I feel
IS REAL.

I'll go bottled blonde,
I'll be, again, fragile and skinny.
In plastic surgeries
I want to waste every penny.
I wear makeup
until my skin's all messed up.
I took thousands of pills
until my stomach said stop.
I work out until fatigue,
I write down every meal.
When you say I look better
it gives me self esteem.
But fear strikes evey time
that I get closer to the scale.
It scares me that instead of a number
it'll show the word whale.
I desire to be
the prettiest in the land.
I long to have
the perfect golden tan.
Delicate flower
for everyone to stare.
The magnetic one
that has nothing to repair.
I want to look radiant,
I want to look like a star.
My idea of the perfect weight
will make me take it too far.
But I don't really mind
about my health nor my spirit,
as long as I'm adored,
as long as I have a merit.
They only see you if you're pretty,
they ignore all the wrong;
You may be unstable
but you're worthy of a song.
And I'm not even concerned,
not like someone will notice.
No one did the last time
but anyway I'll tell you this:
I don't care if you find out
all the things that I conceal.
You can talk all you want,
I have nerves of steel.