"nervosa" poems
I live next door,
To a ballerina,
I hear music all day,
And see lights on all night,
It doesn’t bother me,
For we are good friends,
I knew her forever,
Even as a child,
Sometimes I see her,
From my bedroom window,
Dancing like her life depends on it,
Only, it really does,
She moves,
With such grace,
Delicately on her toes,
As if it was easy,
She glances out her window,
Sees me staring,
Flashes a smile,
As if everything was okay,
But I too knew her too well,
To fall for that lie,
I looked at her long and hard,
And now I see why,
Beads of sweat,
Fell down her forehead,
Her legs shook,
As she did a developpe,
Her face was pained,
Strong hint of confusion,
Yet she smiled away,
As if she wasn’t hurting,
She was beautiful,
She could pass as a goddess,
But if you looked closely,
You could see she wasn’t flawless,
Her ever-so-fake smile,
Is what gave her away,
And the shine in her eyes,
Was simply the tears kept inside
Just when I thought,
It was a trick of the light,
She tripped and fell down,
Into a puddle of her own tears,
I didn’t know,
What to do,
Should I climb out my window?
Or leave her in pain?
One thought was dominant,
And it was neither of either,
I screamed just enough,
For her to hear,
She looked up,
And cried once again,
I asked her what was wrong,
Was everything okay?
She said it wasn’t,
As she walked towards her window,
And then did I see her body,
As thin as a straw,
She told me her story,
Everyone was screaming at her,
They said she was pathetic,
Useless in so many ways,
She said she agreed,
They were telling the truth,
She was too fat to be beautiful,
Too fat to dance,
That’s when it hit me,
It explained so much,
She had a disorder,
Anorexia nervosa,
I told her the truth,
While her body shook,
I shook my head and said,
“It’s going to be okay,
My little ballerina”
She smiled, and left.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
I live next door,
To a ballerina,
I hear music all day,
And see lights on all night,
It doesn’t bother me,
For we are good friends,
I knew her forever,
Even as a child,
Sometimes I see her,
From my bedroom window,
Dancing like her life depends on it,
Only, it really does,
She moves,
With such grace,
Delicately on her toes,
As if it was easy,
She glances out her window,
Sees me staring,
Flashes a smile,
As if everything was okay,
But I too knew her too well,
To fall for that lie,
I looked at her long and hard,
And now I see why,
Beads of sweat,
Fell down her forehead,
Her legs shook,
As she did a developpe,
Her face was pained,
Strong hint of confusion,
Yet she smiled away,
As if she wasn’t hurting,
She was beautiful,
She could pass as a goddess,
But if you looked closely,
You could see she wasn’t flawless,
Her ever-so-fake smile,
Is what gave her away,
And the shine in her eyes,
Was simply the tears kept inside
Just when I thought,
It was a trick of the light,
She tripped and fell down,
Into a puddle of her own tears,
I didn’t know,
What to do,
Should I climb out my window?
Or leave her in pain?
One thought was dominant,
And it was neither of either,
I screamed just enough,
For her to hear,
She looked up,
And cried once again,
I asked her what was wrong,
Was everything okay?
She said it wasn’t,
As she walked towards her window,
And then did I see her body,
As thin as a straw,
She told me her story,
Everyone was screaming at her,
They said she was pathetic,
Useless in so many ways,
She said she agreed,
They were telling the truth,
She was too fat to be beautiful,
Too fat to dance,
That’s when it hit me,
It explained so much,
She had a disorder,
Anorexia nervosa,
I told her the truth,
While her body shook,
I shook my head and said,
“It’s going to be okay,
My little ballerina”
She smiled, and left.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
Believe me its easier this way
Useless, thats what I am
Lies pour out of my mouth
I’m sorry you got dragged into this
My knuckles are red and scared for a reason
I love you
And I’m sorry
Bet you
Everyone
Loves seeing me
Like this
Am I right?
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 6:14 PM UTC
"Bulimia nervosa, an eating disorder that involves bingeing on food followed by purging, can cause gum disease, osteoporosis, kidney disease, heart disease, and death. Bulimia affects mostly women and teens." - WebMD.com
My eyes blurred as I wiped away the remaining evidence from my mouth.
I cried.
It seems that bulimia had taken over my life these past couple of months.
Even my hands shake now.
For some reason, I didn't seem to care that I could give myself cancer with this, that I could die from this.
My headaches have gotten worse, my depression even more intense.
And my poor, sweet mother, willing to believe that I am sick and NOT doing this to myself.
Could I really do this to her?
She now has the duty to care for several children that are not hers because she cares too much.
She tries, but she no longer listens to her own children.
My mother is broken.
Revealing this to her will only break her more.
So I'll keep quiet.
Purging and ridding myself of my shame and self respect.
What could possibly be worse?
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
Dear Prozac,
Thank you for saving my life.
Maybe one day, I will be a good wife.
Ill witted me, now singing softly.
Dear Xanax,
Thank you, for now I can breath.
Too much, and I can’t talk .
Just enough, I can barely walk.
Dear Adderall,
My favorite of the bunch,
For you always keep me up.
Grinding you in a powder,
To feel your mighty ******
Dear Vyvanse,
Always necessary and prescribed,
When you can never eat,
Who needs bulimia nervosa?
The daily calories are in my mimosa
Dear Ambient,
Thank you for the sleep.
All the others make me wide-eyed.
With you, I feel the day, complete.
No longer I will be, a zombie.
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 2:10 PM UTC
dear Annabelle,
I told you one day:
"look in the mirror
and tell me what you see."
your face was a mask of sadness
and you cringed as you faced your worst enemy-
yourself.
"I'm a monster."
that's what you whispered.
you were glaring at yourself,
with hate,
pure hate.
I looked at you,
the same girl you called a monster.
and I saw the most beautiful,
breathtaking person in the world.
Annabelle, I just didn't get it.
"you're wrong."
I told you.
I was sure,
that you were just insecure.
after all, how does such a perfect,
gorgeous girl have that horrible
of a view of herself?
turns out you had an eating disorder,
called anorexia nervosa.
but it was so much more than
a desire to lose weight.
you wanted to lose yourself.
after that day,
you just got worse and worse.
your world was sinking,
e v e r s o s l o w l y.
I wanted to make you feel batter,
but your demons were in control by then.
and Annabelle, I made you worse.
you starved and cut yourself to death,
and no one could help you.
I should've been there more,
for the girl I loved.
but I let you slip
right from my fingers.
how did I do that?
but I just want you to know,
that your view of yourself was tainted,
and you, radiant Annabelle Simons
weren't saying that,
your demons were.
you were never ugly,
or fat,
or utterly repulsive.
you were naturally beautiful,
in every way.
your smile shined,
as you flipped your midnight hair.
your personality was even brighter.
until the day you decided you weren't good enough
for yourself.
love yourself,
because you're all you have.
hug your flaws,
adore the imperfections.
never try to change who you are
because no matter what you say,
you're good enough.
you always were.
so don't look for acceptance.
it's such an abstract term.
the best thing you can do,
is just look in that mirror,
and give yourself:
A Smile.
love, D.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Chinese food on Saturday
and bulimia nervosa on Sunday
anorexic pancakes on Monday
and cold syrup on Tuesday
camels from **** day Wednesday
and a dessert of sand for Thursday
a week of weakness for Friday
when will it end
the voices in my head
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
It starts out slowly
At first, you don't even notice it
You're busy, you'll do it later
But as more time passes you eat less and less
You begin making excuses
You ate a lot yesterday
You're fine.
One day, you lose "control."
The hunger gets the best of you.
You eat and eat and eat
Soon after, the tears begin pouring down.
And so you'll sneak to the bathroom,
maybe stick your toothbrush or finger,
down your convulsing throat.
You relieve yourself of the pressure, the guilt,
and the contents of your stomach all at once.
But they begin to notice.
You lose an unusual amount of weight and it all comes falling down.
You hear the words... but your ears refuse to hear..
"..nervosa"
"bulimia"
"anorexia"
Bits and pieces.
But you're fine, right?
Ana is your friend.
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 5:04 PM UTC
The winter is brisk, but not half as cold as you've become.
How can you say you loved me once?
When I look into those eyes that once seemed so warm,
I only see shadows where your soul used to be.
The winter is brisk, and you're a shell of yourself.
When did you change?
It must have been all the words the doctor used to describe you.
Crazy, depressed, nervosa-syndrome-disorder
There's bandaids where I used to see your beauty.
The winter is brisk, and you're in my head but I'm not in yours.
Why didn't you come back?
The therapist convinced you our love was poison.
But it was the only thing keeping you human.
I can't shake you back to life this time.
Snowglobe darling,
I'll watch your snowflakes fall,
and listen to what's left of your sweet melody.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 9:16 AM UTC
Love is a disease
It is a crime
It drives people insane
And may lead to death if you have it and if you don't
A partial death that will change everything
Some can escaped but some cannot
Those who escape are reborn to be a better person
But those who cannot are still stock in the past grieving
Love is always accompanied with pain
It requires suffering and sacrifices
But even though love is inconsistent
I still prefer not to be cured
Because we will never be truly happy if were not unhappy sometimes.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 4:35 AM UTC
2018
I gained merely two Kg, the people I considered friends looked at me and said “If you keep doing this you’re going to be fat”, he laughed
The other said “I see you’re on the road to obesity” he smiled.
I only weigh 48 kg.
So I wonder, how long will my insecurities get to me, how long will I break and crumble and stop eating and overwork myself at the gym?
How long will my heart be anorexic and my mind bulimic.
How long till this nervosa be one with me?
Answer: it already happened.
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 2:15 AM UTC
The poster girl of well-thumbed submission,
The American Nurses Association,
A narrow mouthed river in Oregon,
Charles Howard Hinton’s fourth dimension,
A track from Pixies Bossanova,
Antibodies,
Anorexia Nervosa.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 7:30 PM UTC
How could she do that to herself.
her collarbones almost popping out of her skin
because she is a skeleton already
her ribcage a tally of the meals she has skipped
one, two, three, four, too many to count
her hipbones protrude like shards of glass
shattered like her self esteem
thighs that no longer touch
calves miles apart
gaps on her body
gaps between meals
her head is a mixed up land
with broken mirrors all around
her friend ana reflected in the shards
she is so familiar with these eating habits they have a name
ana ana ana ana ana
runs through her brain
the calorie counter in her head runs
is an apple worth it anymore?
skip dinner
wake up thinner
pretty girls do not eat.
her body is brittle
she looks like she could break with a touch
but she is already broken inside
the fight is over
she knows it too
she is fading away.
how could i do this to myself.
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 5:49 PM UTC
August was a turtleneck that didn't fit.
Arrested at the crown of the head,
overheated gasp.
Don't you think- she thought,
I see the irony in everything I do?
Pressing ruthlessly against the yield of flesh,
probing against the pale underbelly, measuring
the distance between skin and bone.
is it better now? Is it better?
Imperceptible white ribbons at
the curve of the thigh, a bow tie atop
the gift of a new healthy body
swollen against the wrap.
I hate... I hate myself. Feels all wrong-
She eats her dinner and
the food digests in her brain.
Healthy, now? Is this-
Healing?
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 11:40 AM UTC
Walls close in
Watching.
Thoughts devour
Hyperventilating.
No way out
Keep breathing.
No explanation
Crying.
Blackness engulfs
Shaking.
Gasping for air
Trying.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
manic episodes
social phobia
PTSD
generalized anxiety disorder
hyperactive ****** desire disorder
bulimia nervosa
body dysmorphic disorder
Thanks doc for the diagnosis
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 12:03 AM UTC
I’m 5’1
I have blonde red hair
I wake up every morning and pray thanks
I do things everyday that I’m scared to do
I fight everyday against Anorexia Nervosa
I remind myself everyday my happiness is first
This is Me
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 1:07 PM UTC
There were once two sisters, two girls
With perfect bodies and beautiful curls
Ana & Mia, anyone who was anyone knew their names
I wanted people to start noticing me and stop thinking I was plain
I was told they would help me that was a guarantee
I was told they could work wonders on me
My friends told me they were deadly, told me to stay away
But they promised me beauty at such a small fee to pay
After a while I knew I wouldn't make it without them guiding my way
I ignored everyone telling me I was just easy prey
Ana & Mia
The deadliest pair alive
Commited more crimes than Bonnie & Clyde
More decietful than the Mendez brothers
A casualty rate like no other
They prey on girls with low self esteem
Just one chat with them and you'll fall apart at the seams
This is the story of how I fell into their trap
I don't think I'll ever go back
This is how the two of them became my masters
I was just a plaything for the Nervosa sisters
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
"You're too skinny",
says my love
just as the dawn
breaks through
the window shades.
The seconds
turn into sobs.
With every tear
another bone
protrudes.
All:
cheekbones,
hipbones
and ribs.
My rings
slip off my fingers,
jeans slide down,
the numbers
on the scale
decrease;
these moments,
a triumph.
There's no
stopping her,
no turning away.
She's taken over;
demanding:
SMALLER THAN SMALL.
I answer with:
obsession,
body checking;
an overpowering
need
to be weightless.
I close the door
on him
and the silly ideas
of getting well.
Turning to her,
we hold fragile hands;
I whisper,
"Together, till the end."
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC
fact: the beluga whale can live for around 50 years.
i see everything
i feel as if i have eyes
we all have eyes
but my eyes see it all
i wish they didnt see it all
i really really do
fact: the patients of nervosa probably can't live for around 50 years.
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 4:10 AM UTC
Clouded skies were once green with guilt as they looked on at a love never intended to happen (let alone last). I scrawl secrets onto the backs of my hands and wave, barefaced, to strangers, who have only seen me through the eye-holes of cardboard masks...
I never wanted to be seen.
Yet, your eyes saw the unforeseable, and my heart and soul were spread out over sheer table tops. You examined them with tender, knowledgeable pupils, glazed with beckoning fright. You did not find your happy ending in my book of sad truths. I ceased to be of any value to you, and, since I was not the rare, antique you thought you saw wallowing in a windowshop corner, eventually, you couldn't see me...
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
What happened to Marty's sofa?
Did Eddie find love too?
Was Roz the best boss ever?
Niles, Daphne, David and...?
Cafe Nervosa turned into a cat cafe?
What happened to the tossed salad and scrambled eggs?
Oh... Oh...Oh
Oh Frasier,
Why did you leave the building?
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:06 PM UTC
A documentary watched
Displaying the lives of the broken
The tortured
We are able to understand physical abuse
But mental abuse,
Is pushed to the side
And so the mentally ill ride this never-ending tide
Of stigma, misunderstanding, misinterpretation
You broke your leg? Get a cast at the doctor's.
You have a sore throat? A quick strep test will work.
A voice in my head tells me I'm not good enough and shouldn't eat....
Asking an average person gives you the average answer,
What? How can you not eat? That makes no sense.
And thus you're pushed behind a fence.
Dealing with your thoughts and flaws internally
As you fade for what seems like the rest of eternity
For most, it's impossible to comprehend
How one could hate themselves so much
That they'd rather be thin, or smart, or pretty,
or else have their life end.
Depression, schizophrenia, anorexia nervosa
Bipolar disorder, bulimia, obsessive compulsive disorder.
Diseases of the mind
Cures which dedicated people are trying to find.
Yet until then they live with these conditions
And people's misconceptions
But if just one person lends a listening ear
A non-judgmental interaction,
They can provide help to many far and near.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC