I despise social media.
It's ugly, to state the obvious
Our lives are posted, retweeted, altered, reblogged, perfected, and photoshopped 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

I wish I were prettier
I wish I were younger
I wish I were smarter
I wish I was skinnier
I wish I did not have to love with all my heart
I wish someone would love me back
I wish that person would want to keep me and not just use me
I wish I could mean so much to someone
I wish I wasn't alone so **** much

I'm fat because my first boyfriend in seventh grade broke up with me for another girl and called me a fat ugly ***** over and over.
I'm fat because my best friend joined in and wouldn't lend me his jacket when I was cold because he'd rather give it to another girl because she was skinnier.
I'm fat because I'm too lazy to work out since depression hit.
I'm fat because I stress eat and have a bad sweet tooth.
I'm fat because my last ex wouldn't disagree when I asked him if I was fat.
I'm fat because he wouldn't let me eat.
I'm fat because he would see the plate of food and dramatically say, again?
I'm fat because I carved it into my stomach.
I'm fat because I have horrible mood swings and panic attacks and had to be put on antidepressants and birth control.
I'm fat because I don't look in the mirror anymore unless it's above my chest.
I'm fat because that's what I think everyone whispers when I'm not looking because I'm an anxious paranoid freak.
I'm fat because my parents say I shouldn't eat this or that.
I'm fat because I can't fit in my old pair of jeans.
I'm fat because I've always been scared to wear a bikini, now I refuse.
I'm fat because my mom says tells me she is fat, when she weighs less than me already.
I'm fat because no guys will look at me anymore.
I'm fat and I don't know what to do anymore.

“every time i feel my stomach convulse it’s a new wave of tears
take vitamins, she says
you should just eat, she says
you got skinnier, another says
“eat! eat! haven’t you been eating!? and this bandaid! quit cutting yourself, kalena”
and for a moment i think it’s truth
i think it’s honest
i shout “i do eat! they’re just cat scratches”
and if she would have lifted up that bandaid
she would have learned it was honest
it was truth
but it was melted away flesh that she would have found, not torn
but melted
and in the highlight of this moment i see all of my dreams come true
finally, someone notices!
finally, someone cares!
but yet she’s willing to stop eating. to make sure that i do.
my little thing. an entire 98 pounds, not by choice.
so unhealthy, so sick. all the time. so **** tired.
she would stop eating for me.
and though it doesn’t help, the thought is comforting. it should be disturbing.
it is. in the way that if she stopped eating…
she would lose weight.
and then i would fight harder and harder until my rib bones were sticking out so far they were larger than my chest.
emaciated.
bony fingers that boys don’t want to hold and girls don’t want to kiss.
hair that slides out with the slightest tug.
no one wants that.
except me, of course.
i want that.
i want to weigh 85 pounds.
i want to die.
i want to be so high on the emptiness that i die.
i faint. and they cannot wake me up.
eternal sleep. forever peace. and the best part of all?
I would be horrifically tiny in even the smallest coffin. “

..Who’s ana?
Ana…. why, ana is something special.
no one can hear anna or see ana but me.
Anorexia Ana.
My mom say’s i'm ill...and that Ana is the reason i have guilt…
but i still take Ana’s suicide pill.
She say’s skip dinner, you’ll be thinner, skinnier
thinner.
skinnier….how she desired to conspire and let Ana rewire her...but she was too blind to see that shes a liar.
she didnt know, it acquired diet pills and that as her blood spills, she would think she would be like the beverly hill models…
but little did she know, what she was remodeling.
it wasnt enough…
never good enough…
shes had enough… when will she feel like she’s good enough?

skinnier..
thinner…
Ana wants to be the winner, and so far, shes devouring the inner beauty of a teenage girl.
but darling...what she didnt know, that the search for perfection would **** her.
days go by…..she becomes weaker…..people call her a pleasure seeker when they dont see her on the school bleachers.
the teachers worry, and even the preachers in the church of god still nod and pray to god she wont earn a pair of wings too soon.
her scale that whispers “you’re 90...and still not tiny.”
weeks go by, fragile like a antique….while her tiny body i oblique.
shes cold….but shes proud.
shes proud of the gap between her thighs and how her jean size doesnt show her ***** secret that underlies.
she cries, her body shuddering, her hearts fluttering…..shes suffering…
Anna says “keep pushing. if you want to be skinnier, and thinner. slender and bony only.”
the world bowed down thier heads in shame. shame to the family name.
you’ll go to bed hungry tonight,
telling yourself you dont need to eat.
ana’s telling you that you’re fat agian
that you’re imperfect,
from your eyes down to your feet.
you’d think you’d feel beautiful,
because look; you’re finally thin
though your not skinny yet, and you wont be until you see the danger that you are in.
even then it wont be enough,
because beauty is a drug, and addiction is tough…..she refuses to see ana is making her life tough….but she see’s that when the scale drops, ana says “fair enough”
a 15 year old girl with a lifeless 70 pound body, and still doesnt think she has “thea perfect body”.
bony ribs, and a pointy hip bones…..“she looks like a bag of bones”
as if sticks and stones would describe her mental break downs ….
but she never makes a sound…. Ana says “now you’re hell bound. dont make a sound ….now you belong in a hole in the ground…..ive win and you’re mine now.”
she called Ana, her friend. she was one of the few. she saw in her things that no one knew.

but before she knew, when she knew she couldnt break through,
when she couldnt pull through,
she withdrew her cold poor soul ….and was now in gods view.

all my life I’ve felt
never

    good

         enough

she’s skinnier than me

     she has better skin
 than me
          she has prettier hair than me

I’m always second best

      first loser 

runner up

      second thought 

this marks the start of my journey

to self acceptance

3AM
3AM thoughts are not a thing of beauty.
3AM thoughts haunt you.
They do not care if you have school the next day.
They do not care if you have to wake up early the next day.
Hell, they do not care if you've stayed up the past week because of them.
3AM thoughts are romanticized.
They are not something you want.
They are not something you need.
They are not something you desire.
3AM thoughts chill you to the bone
They cause anxiety
They cause bad grades
They cause chaos
3AM thoughts cause tears.
They do not fill you with happiness
They do not fill you with hope
They do not fill you with future goals.
3AM thoughts haunt you
With "what ifs"
With "why wasn't I good enough"
With "will I ever be good enough"
3AM thoughts fill you with questions that will never be answered.
"What if I was skinnier"
"What if I was prettier"
"What did I do"
3AM thoughts are all about you.

Description: Sam's not at all who people think he is. He might be quiet, he might be shy, but he also was diagnosed with cancer. When Briar moves to town, she catches Sam's eye. What will happen once the two get closer? Will Briar light a spark in Sam's heart?

-

Distant Memory

Dedicated to my cousin, Blake, who is currently fighting a horrific battle of Lymphoma.



You're probably thinking this is just some clichè love story, one about a girl having a crush on her best friend's brother, or how two people fall madly in love, but it's anything but. This is my story, with a twist unlike any other.

~

It all started in our Junior year of high school. You were new to Wakefield High, just moving here the previous year from New York City. On the first day of school, you were so unsure of yourself, not knowing what to do or where to go. I watched as you made your way through the halls, nudging your way through the crowded bodies as students made their way to class. Even though the halls were tremendously over-crowded, you were easy to spot. Your blonde hair and strikingly blue eyes stood out by the school's bland beige walls. You were more radiant, more powerful and glowing, than anything or anyone in the whole school.

Eventually, you made friends in all the clubs you'd joined - culinary club, photography club, and ASL. I don't know what made you stand out from all the other girls at Wakefield High, but whatever it was, it was strong. I felt drawn to you, like we shared a connection deeper than either of us knew. And it was then when I made it my goal to get to know you.

For the first few weeks, I'd tried bulking up the courage to speak to you. I had planned it all out in my mind. I would talk to you at lunch, right as you gathered your food and headed off to the library like you do every day. That was my chance, and I was determined to stick with it.

On that day, I was behind you in the lunch line. Once you got up there, you ordered a chicken empanada, then headed off to the library in the West wing. I quickly grabbed my lunch, a light Cesar salad, and trailed behind you.

You were walking faster than expected, and I was just too weak. I stopped, holding my knees as I gasped for breath. That was my chance to talk to you, to finally hear your beautiful voice, and I blew it.

It wasn't because of what you think. I couldn't keep up because I was lazy or out of shape, because I was neither of those.

I was diagnosed with Leukemia last October, and after tons of treatment, my doctor said I could try going back to school. I decided it would probably be best for me to live a normal life - as much as normal can get for a boy with cancer. Knowing that I was going to die soon - my doctor predicted I would only last for another year, tops - made me want to get to know you more.

After many wasted days of trying - but failing - to get your attention, I gave up. You were too wrapped up in your new life to even acknowledge my existence. Too busy maintaining your new found reputation, too busy dating a new guy every week. I always thought you were a ***** because of it, that you took advantage of different guys and then left them to crumble to pieces, but all of that changed on that faithful day.

I had gotten dropped off late to school because I had to get tests run at the hospital that morning. I tried to get to class on time, running as fast as I could. Only that didn't work because before you knew it, I was out of breath once again.

I headed over to the restroom, hoping a cool splash of water on my face would do the trick, when I heard wailing in the girls bathroom. I looked over my shoulder before entering, just to be safe. As I closed the door, I locked it behind me.

You were leaning against the wall, knees drawn to your chest as you cried. Noticing a presence, you looked up at me, thick black mascara running down your rosy cheeks. Your eyes were puffy, and I could tell you'd been crying for quite a while.

I didn't know what to say or do at that point, so I did what my heart told me I should do. I held you.

I sat next to you and wrapped my arms around you. Your body seemed small and weak, heaving in my arms. You cradled your head into my neck as tears fell from your bright blue eyes. I didn't bother asking what was wrong. Figured I would at a better time.

Just then, you looked up at me, face flushed and blotchy, and grabbed my hand. It seemed to fit perfectly within yours, our frail fingers intertwined in each others.

I tucked a few of your light blonde strands behind your ears as your cries dwindled. Even after you'd finished crying, you sat with me.

"What's your name?" Your eyes shone with curiosity.

"Sam."

"I'm Briar."

Briar. What a beautiful name. I smiled in your tangled hair. I never in a million years thought I would ever talk to you, and even if I had, I never would have expected it to be quite like this.

"You like Ed Sheeran too?" You asked, your eyes widening in delight as you scanned my shirt. I watched a smile creep to your face, lighting up your gorgeous eyes.

"Yeah, he's my favorite singer," I smile shyly. I can feel the heat rushing to my cheeks, and I feel embarrassed for acting this way.

Ever since then, we began talking. The more we talked, the more I knew how wrong I was about you. You weren't a ***** at all; all the guys you've dated broke up with you, but blamed it on you every time. That's how you got the title as biggest ***** of the school. I felt bad because you were one of the sweetest people I'd ever met, portraying someone you weren't.

I felt like that Ed Sheeran shirt brought me luck. It was the start to our budding friendship.

After a while, you completely changed. You stopped hanging out with the populars, claiming they were never into you anyway. And I found you enjoyed yourself more. I ended up joining the photography club later that year. Whenever we would go out on weekends, I was always taking pictures of you, catching the memories within a moment of time.

You always loved my pictures. As we sat in my bedroom, I'd let you pick out your favorites for you to keep, writing little notes on the back of each picture. Your absolute favorite one was that one of the two of us.

We were in a huge field, smiling as I held you in my arms wedding style. Your blonde hair flew around in all different directions and your eyes held happiness and joy. That was my favorite one too.

I had always had feelings for you, ever since that day in the bathroom, but I'd never have the chance to show you how I really feel. Even if I did, why would you love me back? I have no hair anymore since going through chemotherapy. My body's frail and weak, barely able to stand up on my own.

I had went to the doctors two days ago for more tests, and the doctor found that the tumor in my brain was growing more and more rapidly by the second. Therefore, I would be dying sooner than expected. I only had four days left. My mother held me in her arms as she cried, her wet tears staning my t-shirt.

That night, I called you and told you the news. You cried into the phone, and I wish I was there to hold you, tell you that everything would be okay, that I would be better soon. It was a lie, but I didn't want to hear you sad. I felt bad for being the cause of it.

The next day, I was rushed to the hospital after my mother found my collapsed in my room.

It was then I knew my life was coming to a close. I grabbed a pen and piece of paper, and wrote you a letter.

~

Dear Briar,

If you're reading this, I'm probably gone by now. I just woke up to the dimly lit lights flooding into my room, tubes and needles inside of me. My heart monitor is beeping weakly next to me, and I feel very frail. Cold, frail, and in tremendous pain. You're alseep on the couch right next to my bed and I watch you, take in your beauty for the last time. Your blonde hair is flowing around your head like a halo, your lips look like delicate red rosebuds. Even though I am weak, getting skinnier by the second, I make my way over to your side, kissing you lightly on the forehead.

I never told you about my cancer, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for causing you the pain of me leaving you. I never meant for it to be this way. All I wanted was to live a normal life, and you showed me that there's happiness even in the smallest of places.

When you miss me, look at the pictures of us, pinned to a board on your bedrooom wall. Remember the memories we've had together. Remember the way you always made me smile, the dozens of laughs you filled me with. You showed me how to enjoy life, Briar. And I could never ask for anything more.

You filled my gloomy days with so much laughter I could barely contain myself. Remember me like that, Briar. Remember me happy.

I never realized it before, but I've fallen in love with you; your glowing smile, eyes the color of the raging ocean. I'd never known what love felt like, but I found it with you.

I love you so much, Briar. Never forget that. And remember I'll always be with you.

Love forever and always,

Sam

~

Briar's POV

I woke up to Sam's heart monitor, constantly beeping.Looking at the monitor, I noticed his breaths were slowing.

I made my way over to his bedside, rubbing my thumb gently across his cheek. His eyes were closed as his chest rose every so often.

"If only you knew how much I love you, Sam," I whispered, a single tear falling from my eyes. I watched him smile as he dwindled away.

"Sam? Sam?" My eyes filled with panic as I shook him lightly. "Sam?" My voice rose as I looked at the monitor, seeing the thin red line.

"Help! Somebody help!" I cried. As soon as those words escaped my lips, his hospital room flooded with doctors and nurses. They surrounded him, pushing me away to see what had happened. But they didn't need to. I already knew.

A doctor with black curly hair came rushing over to me. "I'm sorry, but he's gone.."

He's gone... He's gone... He's gone...

Those words rung in my ears, filling my head. I ran over to your bedside, crying my eyes out and practically screaming your name, hoping you'd come back to me.

I lay my head on your unmoving chest, letting my tears soak into your shirt. I noticed a small white envelope on the table next to you, To my sweet love, Briar, was written on it in your handwriting. I stuck it in the back pocket of my jeans before heading out of the hospital, feeling numb and empty.

I reread the letter over and over, tears staining the white lined paper.

"I love you, Sammy," I said, looking up at the bright blue sky. Even though the world seemed empty without you, I know I had to be strong. For you.

On days where I feel I can't bear your absence, I look at the pictures you took, just like you'd asked. I never knew you would change my life in such a drastic way.

She tried to hard to be someone she was not,
it all backfired in a way,
Today's the day i speak out,
about what took her away.

She tried so hard to be something that she loved.

"Just a bit skinnier. Your mom would have loved that." Her mind whispered.

She tried to hard to be someone that she envied.

"A little more skinnier, all the girls will envy you." her mind whispered a little louder.

She tried to hard to be someone,
that just wasn't her.

"SKINNIER." Her mind now yelled.

The less she ate, the skinnier she got.

As she took her final breaths,
she slipped away to neverland...
Awaiting a peaceful death.

when i look
in the mirror,
i do not see the
“oh my god, you’re so skinny,”
i do not see the
“you need to eat more,”
not the
“there’s no way you’re not anorexic,”
not the
“i wish my body looked like yours.”
when i look
in the mirror,
i see the
“you’re fat,”
i see the
“she’s skinnier than you,”
i see the
“you need to be skinny, or you won’t get a husband,”
i see the
“eat less,”
i see the
"you need to be the skinniest one in your friend group,"
i see the
trans fat
saturated fat
cholesterol
sodium
dietary fiber
sugar
protein
Calorie Count.

Every girl deserves to be reminded of how beautiful they are.
Every girl deserves be told they are loved.
Every girl deserves to know that someone is always there for them.
Every girl deserves support.
Every girl deserves someone to talk to in the middle of the night.
Every girl deserves to know how amazing they are.
Every girl deserves someone that makes them happy.
Every girl deserves a shoulder to cry on.
Every girl deserves to be treated like a lady.
Every girl deserves to know how special they are.
Every girl deserves to have fun.
Every girl deserves to be happy.
Every girl deserves to be told that they are perfect.
Every girl deserves to be loved.

But sadly,
Not every girl has that.
Most girls sit alone in their rooms at night,
And cry.
Because no one is really there for them.
No one reminds them of their assets.
No one sees their beauty
People take advantage of them.
And when those girls look in the mirror,
All they see is their flaws and imperfections.
They look at themselves in the reflection,
And hate what they see.
They cry for what seems like forever.
Then wish that they were someone else.
Someone prettier,
Someone better,
Someone happier,
Someone skinnier,
Someone richer,
Someone with a better life than their own.

But they don't see their strengths.
And most of the time,
They never will.
Girls only see their ugliness,
And that's always what they will see.
Society has formed an image of women.
You have to look like models and celebrities,
Or else you're considered ugly.
You have to have a perfect body,
Or else you're considered fat.
But all a girl really needs is someone to tell them they are beautiful the way they are.
They may never actually believe it,
But at least they know that you think that,
And it makes them start to transform their vision of themselves,
Into what they actually are,
Which is a beautiful girl who is perfect in every single way.

My lover introduced me to a girl named Ana today.
She is an emancipated horror who I am scared to know.

My lover told me he introduced all his exes to Ana, Ana will help our relationship grow
I ask if he thinks I'm fat
All he says is to get to know ana and Things will be better.

I shake hands with Ana and her voice Is intoxicating but I refuse to become addicted
She promises to let me be, only see me when I truly need.
Little did I know her fingers were crossed.

My loved coaxes me to meet with Ana more often
Run with her before school and sit with her at lunch
I hope she joins me for dinner tonight.

My lover praises me and tells me I'm becoming beautiful
But I wonder
Is he praising me or Ana
She's the beautiful one
And I am still fat

My lover tells me Ana made the *** better
As I screamed his name over and over again
In attempts to forget mine
And he loves that I no longer want the lights on when we do the deed
Praying the dark will hide the layers of chub clinging beneath my skin

My lover expects Ana to be with us at all times
I get angry at her and push her away breaking all her rules
And feeling guilty
I hope she'll take me back I learned my lesson
I crawl back to Ana

My lover introduces me to Mia
Says she'll be there for me when Ana fails me
Mia has scars on her knuckles and thin hair
But she promises what Ana denied me
And I gladly wrap my arms around her

My lover tells me ana and Mia are the only friends I'll ever need
I have to agree
My others have left me
My true friends tell me
It was because I was skinnier than them
But now I'm the fattest friend again

My lover is proud of Ana Mia and I
Tells me they've made me perfect
I can finally stop meeting them
I agree
And later that night the three of us rendezvous in the bathroom
To test the scale
And my gag reflex

My lover is angry at me
I've betrayed him with my meetings
He tells me if I don't leave them he'll leave me
Is tired of waking up to find me with my head passed out on the toilet seat

My lover is no longer mine
Left me for a curvy girl
Well that's fine with me
My only true loves are Ana and Mia
And I know they'll never leave me.

My new lovers make me pretty
And tell me I'll soon be perfect like them
I feel beautiful every time I lose the weight
But they make me feel useless when I don't follow their commands

My lovers tell me not to talk to a boy
Explain I'm not thin enough yet
Tell me to **** in my stomach when he looks at me
But I sense no judgement in his eyes
I tell them this is what they've prepared me for
And they scream that I'm not ready and he'll take them away from me
I'm scared to lose them
But I still meet him when I've managed to keep them at bay with leaf

My lovers are suffocating me
Shoving their fingers down my throat and slamming my wrist to the table when I pick up a fork
I'm scared they'll never let me be
Their eyes are hallow
And I can't find their compassion

My lovers are no longer beautiful
I see them as they are
Emancipated lifeless things
Praying for me to join them
They hold out their skeletal hands
Begging me to take them
Their lips are blue and voice raspy
And I want nothing more to run away but I'm stuck in place

I've left my lovers
They're still screaming
Clinging to my back with surprising weight
Hair falling out onto me
Whispering sweet nothings
Then screaming when I don't so as they say

My lover
Is a boy who sees me without fear
Does not scare away when he sees the girls clinging to me
Or the way my ribs jut out when I don't eat for a day
And I trust him every time he tells me
I'm beautiful
Even though the girls are whispering in ashen voices
***** I make you beautiful
Please come back and I'll make you drop dead gorgeous.
But I don't want to be gorgeous if it means being six feet under.

My old lovers are shrinking
Voices drying up every time I sip cream filled coffee
Arms weakening every time I lift the bite of cake to my lips.
They are dying with every meal I eat
Their voices getting quieter the longer I go without listening.
I only hope one day they do die
So that way I don't.

One lover introduced me to a horrendous disease. I'm not going to call them Ana and Mia anymore Because naming them is just a sad way of trying to control them
As if by personifying them We make them less dangerous Like a game or child's story. But this is a disease that killed thousands and almost killed me. One in five girls with an eating disorder die. I was one of the lucky few Don't be the one. Get help.If I can defeat this You can obliterate it. It won't be easy But it'll be more than worth it. Throw away the scale Burn the tape measurer You are more than a number You are beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you different. not a lover Or society Or yourself. Love yourself And others will follow suit. And in case you need to hear it I love you. Beat this I'll be here, Never be afraid to ask for strength. I don't have much But I'll give you all of it. If only to see you wake up in your bed instead of on the floor of the bathroom Stuck to the tile by sweat. To weak to sit up To tired to breath no matter who you are or what you've done No matter your lowest or highest weight Or how many ribs I can see No matter if I even know your name I love you. And if you ever need it I'll be here Just a message away And I promise I will give you all the strength I have just to help you get through a meal. Even if what you need is someone to sit and hold your hand and encourage you to take every bite or someone to tell you that you are beautiful when you can't bring yourself to fully believe it.
So please help yourself and Don't listen to others say "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels" because so many things do.
Fresh donuts with coffee on days you don't want to face the light of morning
Pizza with friends while playing ****** video games and watching even ******* rom coms
Thanksgiving turkey
Christmas ham
Hot cocoa with a lover who sees stars in your eyes
But most of all
Life.
Life tastes better than any number.

I used to be scared of monsters under my bed
Now I'm just scared of the ones in the mirror
Sometimes I wish I could just be dead
Than seeing them come closer and closer

Each and every day, they misled
Made me think I was a horror
Implanting these thoughts in my head
That I needed to be better

That I needed to be taller,
That i should be prettier,
That i needed to be skinnier.

Those monsters in the mirror,
they were actually just myself
Speaking the truth, reading the thread
Of society's standards, inside my head

I would take pictures
of myself on facebook but I would rarely ever wear a smile.


I would not take selfies not for attention and not for love from any love else.


They were just daily reminders  and the cruel reality was that I have always hated the way I looked.


I obsessed over my weight and thought if I did look skinnier that I would look great.

A  few times in my life I had to face my inner battle head on
it has won me an few times in my life.


At certain points in my life I rejected eating and enjoying my food.

All the fat comments took my joy of eating away, they were  
so vile and rude.

Being shouted at in the street and called the fat loser.  

In this period of my life I had an year of self hatered and defeat.

The eating issue was hard to beat.  
I would get triggered
if anyone mentioned anything relating to my weight if it was just another joke.


The echo of the rude comments
would stand out in my brain
repeating the same rude line.
"Your a fat loser"

Even when people in my family
said I was looking fine and were more concerned about my health.

The voice in my head would keep shouting that these are all lies.

I said to people around me
please do not keep mentioning
about my weight and just talk
about other topics.

Dont keep feeding the hate that is already there when there are plenty of things out than just talking about my weight.


It only magnifies the issue of the ED
and this makes it tougher to fight inside my mind.

I have accepted my ED and dealt
with some of my inner pain
that is only half the battle, in my own head I must learn to accept and love my body, be happier and eat more regularly without feeling any dread, guilt and remorse.


Love my self, ignore the haters and horrible cruel comments that have always stood out in my mind.

The comments and thoughts
are always going to be there
but I now I know I really dont care as much about this  
and to not let it control my life.


The rude people in the street
might have won the battle at the time
for a short while
but they never won the whole war over me.

I have choose now to accept my fate, eat again and be more health. Learning to love myself again and that is the final score.

Behind me and my daughter
In line for the Ferris wheel
Perhaps when you are older
You will find breastfeeding
Is the least nasty thing
Your child will do

Wait for the projectile *****
The diaper explosions
Snot handed to you
So kindly like a present
Wait for the strangers to ask you
"So when do you plan to get your body back?"

My body never left
It did the most badass thing
Any body could ever do
What have you done
With the beautiful sharp mind and body
God has given you?
Used your eyes and words
To judge other women
Looked at your tummy in the mirror and thought
"I should be skinnier."

It is a shame,
Women ought to stick together
So I'm going to tell you now
Your bodies are amazing
Magical, you might say
Life giving, you're **** right
Do not judge me
Say that my nursing toddler is nasty
Look at her face,
How can you be so cruel?
For ***** sake,
It's just a ******
I can see more of you
Pre-thirteen
In your crop top and skinny jeans
Than you can of me

Hot off the press as in I finished this piece about thirty minutes ago, any advice? I love and appreciate all of you beautiful people. -Cyril*

I yelped when the third blister popped and David shouted to me from a few branches above, “if the blood flows you have to make your mark here, Jacob.” Frustrated, I pull out my dulled Wal-Mart knife and notch Old Pine where my blood broke this time. I look around for my notch from last week and spy it a few feet below my right foot.
“You’re getting higher each week! I know you’ll make it to the top next time. I can just feel it, man,” David said. The hope in his voice always kills me.
I’m higher than before but still not high enough. I look up Old Pine and see the circle of deep notches where David stands, dyed red with generations of my family’s blood. I wrap my left arm around the base of Old Pine, skinnier at this height, and I close my eyes. The taste of iron and winter fills my mouth as I gingerly take the corner of the torn callus between my two front teeth and rip the rest of the dead skin clean off. I let the blood pool up until my palm is full and I smear the puddle into my moist notch in the tree. My ***** red blood mixes with the pine’s regal, green blood. I pull my hand away and see the two bloods combine. The smell of blood always makes me dizzy up this high, but I can’t show weakness in front of David. Not at Old Pine.
“I’ll see you at the bottom. I’m done for the day.” I say and before he can reply I leave. I begin the climb back to the ground, dodging empty crow nests and old scared over gashes in Old Pine’s skin, pushed along by cold fists of wind. The blood sneaks through the hole in my palm each time I push it into the spiteful bark along my descent and I try to ignore it.
I dangle from my one good hand on the bottom branch and fall to the dying grass below. My hungry toes feed on solid ground again. I sigh, grabbing a handful of the kudzu that grows on Old Pine’s base to put in my mouth, and I plop to the ground. The breeze here licks my sweaty neck in an apology for its merciless stepbrother who, sixty feet above, whipped and spit across my face. I hear a light thump and feel a breeze behind me and as I turn I see David gracefully landing on two feet.
“You were almost there this time. Just a few more climbs and I’m sure you’ll breech the top.” David’s determination is the only reason I come back with him to this god-forsaken tree. I do it for him, not myself.
I spit the chewed up Kudzu into my palm and mash it into the red holes to help them clot faster. Father taught me about Kudzu’s medicinal uses when we used to hunt together before the fall.
I look up into Old Pine’s green canopy above my head and feel the silence between the three of us. Old Pine is our father now and David thinks it’s his fault. Old Pine is the tallest tree on our farm and the only one infused with generations of our family’s blood. From the very top you can see all of our family land. It’s a view every man in the family has to see when he comes of age. Dad took David up when he was only fourteen. It was on their climb down that he fell. I was nine.
“It’s the view, Jacob. The view is like nothing else you’ll ever experience. Holding onto the rusty-red notch circle and looking out on our land, it’s almost spiritual, man.” I don’t look at him, but I know David is crying.
We looked up to the canvas of green and brown and David asks if I can hear Dad’s whispers, but I all I hear is the creak of old branches.

All my life I’ve watched them dance,
Swing and dip and sway
Rustle and nod, so fresh and sweet

The young ladies skirts are
All decorated with beautiful, delicate lace-like veins
Threaded through carefully,
Or sprawled decoratively

Some ladies are full and round
Frail and graceful
Or pointed and elegant
But all dance divinely.

Their skirts are
Sprayed with a pinch of cologne
Some smell too strong,
Are barely there
Or smell perfectly lovely
Yet all are carried off with the melody of the wind.

Stick-like creatures climb up and down
Our dance floor,
Picking one of us off our dance floor
And leave us lying on an eerily still ground.

I’m just a skinny bud
Pale-green, like all other buds
Yet I’m shamefully paler and skinnier
I notice a pale white spot beside me

Some time has passed.
The early-budding young dancers
And their pink flowers have wilted
To a strange orange color
Turning brown
Before falling to the still ground

It’s become my time.
My thin, curled frame has changed
Fanning out and my skirts darkening an enviable green
A deep, rich green with its edges colorless
So the sunlight can
Tint it a merry gold
The lace-like veins are fine and soft
Stitched to make an almost symmetrical pattern

The white spot beside me has blossomed to be
My pretty, pink flower
Soft against my skin
With a sweet, alluring fragrance
Enveloping my pointy-edged but round frame

It’s become my time
To dance as the wind conducts
Never-ceasing

The melody of the wind whispers
We lean gently, softly
The music caresses me
Sunrays glowing

The tune of the wind picks up
We rustle and nod
The music embraces me
Sunshine kissing

The beat of the wind crescendos
We dip and sway
The music rushes around my waist
Increasing the velocity of my dancing

The chorus of the wind starts
We swing and twirl
Our dance floor swings to and fro
The music whips my skirts
The last rays of sunshine start to leave us.

The orchestra of the wind erupts
We joyfully prance and wildly flutter
The dance floor shudders violently
The echoes of the thundering cymbals excite us
Far-away spotlights of silvery purple pierce the dark sky
Fat, watery droplets pour
Trembling on our skin

The music holds me a welcome prisoner
All I can do is dance, dance, dance.
The Sun has disappeared from the sky
But is in our hearts right now

The fat droplets hang on the tip of my dress
And the sun glow them rainbow
Making me sparkle and shine
As I dance to my hearts content.
Rustling, whistling, dipping, swaying and swinging
My beautiful green dress

When all around us is dark,
And they’re no parties tonight,
We yawn and tuck in our skirts
While the dance floor rocks us to sleep.

When we wake we dance again.
This dance never seems to end
As the sun says hello,
And the sun says goodbye.

I see the pale-green buds watching us enviously
Watching me, with my rosy-petal jewel
As I watch the azure-blue patches of ceiling

Many sunsets and sunrises have past.
The whipping of my skirts are loosening
The energy of my hips are fading
My green skirt is getting old, ever so old
Its fringes turning an odd yellow-orange
Dancing has become wearisome
The dress slowly turns an ugly brown, with specks of yellow-green
My flower-jewel has turned brown,
And flown away with the music in the wind
Many of my friends have fallen from our dance floor
To rest finally in a beautiful sleep
We’ve all danced for too long and are tired
But I keep holding tight.
I have but one last dance to do.

I see the buds still watching me enviously
Surprised, I notice they’ve gotten fatter.
When blinded by youth and happiness
It was hard to remember I was ever one of them
But I remember now, I do.
I remember so clearly now that my time has come
To pick up my skirts
And silently fall…
So I dance to them my story
As I have danced to you mine.

There is a line
between
pain and
pleasure.
But when that line blurs-
When the pleasure overthrows
your inhibitions
and the pain numbs your body,
When pain becomes pleasure
and pleasure becomes pain,
how do you know when to stop.

I glorify it.
I crave the taste
of the sickness.
of the disease rippling across my skin,
boiling in my veins
and flowing through my blood.

Is it Healthy?
I love you,
I love it,
but is it healthy
To walk the streets at night
in constant fear
not only of what lurks in the shadows
but of you too.

Anorexic bodies
falling all around us.
Mine included.
Skinnier by the day,
yellow nails chipping and peeling,
grinding of the teeth
to procure a never ending headache.

Pale skin;
cold to the touch
from lack of circulation.
Weak in your arms
an intoxicated mind
and a heart struck through with daggers.

Blasting screams
and beats
to block out the world
and create a throbbing in our heads.
Your freak show;
My guilty little pleasure.

So sick
So satanic
So tenebrific
So twisted
so disturbed
so disgusting
so beautiful
so broken.

cradled by poison,
hold me in your arms,
a monster in the shadows
with thanatognomonic eyes.

With my thanatophobia
You manage to keep me alive.

You do it to feel the pain,
as a confirmation that you're still alive,
But I do it to feel nothing,
to feel all this pain
all these repressed emotions
disappear.

Overall we do it to stay alive,
and shred away
our pitiful sorrows
one by one,
piece by piece.
For inch by inch
we come closer
to meeting the same
fate
of our cold,
useless,
easily forgotten bodies
lying on a metal slab.
Soon to be greeted
by the maltreated Earth.

Do you ever feel like you're drowning
with anchors tied to your feet
and you just feel so lost in this world of hatred
and there aren't enough words to speak
up to the authority and give them all you've got
but you've been turned down so many
and your stomach's bunched in a knot
as you hold back your tears and your eyes welt up
thinking to yourself what am i really made of

and i wish i was skinnier,
i wish i was strong enough to not eat
but i also wish i loved myself ,
or had someone to love me.

They say it all gets better
and tell me its going to be okay
but what if its not.
and i know it won't be today,
or tomorrow, the day after, and the next
and then i think to myself
what will i have left.
i want to change so badly
but I'm scared as hell
because you always hear them say
you have got to love yourself.
but society is so ****** and contradictory
how can i love myself, if i can't truly be me.

and i wish i was skinnier,
i wish i was strong enough to not eat
but i also wish i loved myself ,
or had someone to love me.

so please do me this,
and promise me dearly
that you will love me for me,
and not for what i should be.
because i will love you for who you are
not for who you aren't
and i swear to the moon and back
you'll always know where my heart is.

How long will it take you
To forget the smell on my hair?
How long before you stop coming to my room
Out of habit?
How quickly will your heart stop aching
At the mention of my name?
A month? A week? A day?
Did you ever need me?
Will you miss me at all?
While I lie here alone
Crying for your touch,
Will you move on?
How long will it take you
To find another?
Prettier. Skinnier. Smarter.
More talented. Better.
Will her smile outshine
All your memories of me?
Will her hands be softer,
Her feet prettier,
Will she be bolder and brighter
Than I ever was?
How long will it take you
To replace me?

I wear baggy clothes so that I can feel skinnier.
I reread all of the notes I've saved almost every night.
I write really loopy because it's hard for me to let go.
I close my eyes and imagine things, constantly.
I paint with black because colors are too interesting.
I rub my face when I'm stressed, or I claw at my skin.
I wear my hair over my face so I can't see people staring.
I hate liquid eyeliner, insincerity, and pomegranates.
I love being in the rain because it stings, cleans, drenches.
I want to either die young or marry young, always have.
I try to walk everywhere I go so I can lose more weight.
I wish I remembered how to be happy.