body,
i am so
so
so
sorry

i'm better,
i swear.
i'm better.
because that's all that makes sense to you.
i have to be better
if all the weight that i put myself through hell to lose
is slipping back onto me so quickly.
this is what recovery is supposed to look like,
isn't it?
eating.
gaining weight.
but what is recovery supposed to feel like?
because i can't stop myself from stepping on the scale,
and every time i do,
i want to cry.
(but it's safer to sob myself to sleep at night.)
i can't stop myself from checking every label
and counting every calorie
and exercising out of hatred.
i can't stop myself from taking every tiny ounce of opportunity
for control that i get.
but i'm still eating.
i still gained weight.
that weight that seems to crush my shoulders
and haunt my lungs
more than it ever felt on my body,
because i've always seen myself as heavy.
my body has only ever been associated
with danger
destruction
and a distraction.
my body has only ever been something
to be taken advantage of
and guarded
and feel ashamed for
and commented on
and covered
and cut.
my body has only ever been my enemy.
and i'm not sorry.
i'm effing devastated.

i can hardly believe how much this is consuming me

i don't have to control it.
i don't have to think about it.
my body helps me live my life,
and its relationship with gravity
is the least interesting thing about me.

you really thought someone was going to come save you,

didn't you?

you really thought there could be an easy way out,

didn't you?

if you want this hell to end,

you're going to have to stand up,

work yourself dead,

and save your own **** self.

every year.
every year i stay up until 12:15
on April 7.
the time is burned in my memory
like branding,
etched into my essence
and i can't forget.
four years ago,
it was the moment he was gone.
the river of grief is still these days -
i don't think of his absence
nearly as much as i used to,
and i'm starting to get used to Christmas
without his voice.
i'm starting to get used to life
without his smile.
without his hugs.
without his laughter and his warmth.
but it's 12:15
on April 7
and i would give the world
to have him back.

it's a lovely feeling,
i know.
i know.
i know.
but you can't stay here.
this isn't any way to live.
you can't have a full life feeling empty.
it's so hard,
i know.
i know.
i know.
eat anyway.
live anyway.