Yesterday I looked at myself in the mirror
And although I tried to take the advice given to me by my therapist
I was unable to find a single thing I might even just tolerate about myself.
Instead, my mind and heart raced each other, trying to see who would win the prize of defeating me
as I scan my naked body for each and every inconsistency and insufficiency.

You see my first memory of self hatred comes from a place most people could not predict.
Imagine me at six years old standing in the shower, so proud of myself
For finally graduating from the bathtub I had associated with childhood.
I had just finished reading “Falling Up” by Shel Silverstein.
And out of the more than 400 poems by this poet one stuck to my brain
Like peanut butter on the roof of my mouth after eating a PB&J.

Now if you’ll forgive me for getting off track for just this moment
I’d like to read you this poem entitled “Scale.”

“If I could only see the scale,
I’m sure that it would state
That I’ve lost ounces...maybe pounds
Or even tons of weight.
‘You’d better eat some pancakes-
You’re skinny as a rail.’
I’m sure that’s what the scale would say…
If only I could see the scale.”

If you’ve ever read a poem by Shel Silverstein you’d know that each of them
Are accompanied by an illustration.
This particular poem is positioned next to a drawing of a person standing on a scale
Unable to see the number because their stomach juts out just far enough
To block their view of the information that scale is providing.
I remember looking down at my naked body
Only to realize that i also could not see my feet.
My childish, growing, prepubescent tummy obstructed my view of my toes.
And I remember thinking for the first time, “Wow, I am fat.”
And that same feeling has followed me throughout these subsequent years.
Throughout elementary, middle, high school and beyond.
My dysmorphic perspective has been a shadow of which I could not shake.
And try as I might, deep down I knew that this was my fate.

I started restricting what I ate starting in 6th grade.
-I counted calories lost and gained and measured my size by the tightness of a tank top.
I watched videos of people like Eugenia Cooney,
and inspired myself through the photos I saw of
Emaciated girls kept alive by feeding tubes.
I was 12.
-I was diagnosed with Ee Dee En Oh Ess in the summer of seventh grade.
EDNOS is a catch-all eating disorder characterized by the characteristics you lacked
To be able to gain the coveted name brand DSM-5 diagnosis of anorexia.
-This I considered to be my failure.
To not qualify because of a lack of being underweight was all I needed for motivation.
So I doubled down on my efforts to lose weight and by the age of fourteen
I had finally achieved that which I so...craved.
I was the best. The skinniest. The one people whispered about in the halls and I had all the attention I could ever dream of getting.
And I was happy.
Wasn’t I?

Skip ahead to now and you will know my comeback story.
Seven years of weekly therapy, numerous psych ward stays, and one near-death experience
I can finally say that I am at a stable and healthy weight.
I continue to despise my body, but now I have the tools and mechanisms to be able to fight off the demon I had nicknamed “Ana”.
-And while I still cannot say that I truly love myself the way I am,
Slowly and steadily I continue to improve.
And I hope that one day I can look into that mirror, take in all my flaws and still be able to tell little 6 year old Grace…
“Sweet girl, you will be okay”.

I haven't done dishes in weeks because I haven't needed them yet.
I refuse to say it's my tummy grumbling because tummy sounds cute but mine isn't so my stomach is grumbling and it's loud but not louder than black coffee and cigarettes
(that's what skinny girls are made of, didn't you know?)
my room-mate is worried and my best friend can smell it and I am fat.
please excuse me if my voice cracks. I've got something in my throat but it isn't ***** and it isn't food
it's my heart. There's no room for it in my ribcage anymore so it jumped into my vocal cords and maybe that's why I told her she was exceptional last night
(she isn't)
I don't weigh myself because I don't have batteries for the scale and maybe that's a good thing because Ana won't stop whispering in my ear until I look lovely
(no matter how close to 100 I am she's not happy)
so won't you please excuse me while I look for my ribcage?
you'll find me in a churchyard next time we meet
and I hope I'm the skinniest angel.

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.

Once upon a time
There was a girl
She was no different than any other
And if your life moved to fast
Like the rest of the world
You would miss it
Because you have to understand...
This girl had a secret
A dark secret
One she kept hidden away because
She knew if she let it out
It would comeback to haunt her
Like it did

This girl wasn't the prettiest
Or the skinniest
Funniest
Or most popular
And every time she looked in the mirror
She felt like crying
Because the reflection she got
Isn't the one she wanted

This girl
She was to afraid to use the razor
Because she wanted to believe
There was another way
Somehow, someway
That she could let go of her pain
Open up
And let it all go

But she couldn't do that
Couldn't let them see her weak side
They would'nt care anyway
So she had to push it away
Paint that fake smile on every time she walked into that building
That stupid building
With the sign that read:
We are glad to report this is a bully free zone
*******
It's all *******
Because if its not bullying
To crush a girls hopes and dreams every time she opens her mouth...
Then what the hell is it
And if its not bullying
To call a girl
Fat
Ugly
Stupid
Following it up with just kidding
Then what is
Has the definition changed?
Because if it has then tell me
I want to know
So I can tell that girl
That she's fine and needs to get over herself
Just like everyone else
Just like everyone else

So she did
She pushed away her pain
And acted like it was all
"Ok"
But it wasn't
It wasn't ok
And every day of her life
All she wanted was to fit in
To be considered cool
To have one guy look at her and say
She's beautiful
But why would they?
Why should they?
How can any guy love her when she can't even love herself

And so life went on
And she continued to go to the place she feared most
A place where she was judged on something as simple as
The music she listens too
And when she try's to save herself
From there torture
Everyone seems to suddenly disappear
Those people who told her they love her
Aren't there to help her
So she fights her battles alone
But you see
One person can only fight for so long
Before they give up
And it's just a matter of time before
Those words they promise are about that boyband she likes
Those words
Gay
Stupid
Ugly
Retarted
***
Loser
And worthless
They slowly begin to be about her
And they tell her
We like you
You're funny
And yet
When she stands in the line for lunch
And they think she can't hear them
That she's to focused on the food in front of her
The food she's trying to decide to keep down
She can hear them
And it hurts
It ******* I N G hurts
Because its then when she realizes
It's all a joke to them
It's not about the music
No
It's a joke to see who can break her first
But the jokes on them because
She beat you to it
If it was a game
She won
Because the thing is
She's already broken herself
Because its not so much what they say to her
It's what she says to herself
It's the fact that
Every time she looks in a mirror
She see's a worthless *******
A ******* trying to fit in
With works of art
And she can't do it
But she try's it anyway
Wasting her life on people
People who could care less about her
Wasting her life on people who judge her for the music she listens too
Not who she is

But they don't understand
That every time this girl goes home
Every time this girl decides its worth it
To live another day
Its because of that "gay band"
And that "gay band"
That she doesn't even know
Make her feel more loved
Than any person she has ever met in her life
Because when she started to slip
5 pars of hands caught her
5 hero's saved her

So go ahead
Tell her how pathetic that is
I know you want to
But just know
She's walking on thin ice
And anyone of you could be the deciding factor for her
So do it
Test your luck
It's all a game to you
And in all games there's a winner
So
You lose
She lives
You win
You push her over the edge and
She dies

That's twisted and sick you say?
Well that's life
And maybe you should of thought of that
Before you tore her down
All her dreams
Hopes
Everything she is
Its all gone
Because of *you

I'm one of those blessed I know
To get along with my toes
So I took time out in my day
To give them all different names

The big toe I have on the right
I gave him the name of Frank
You may ask the reason why
But frankly it's escaped my mind

The one that's sitting next to him
I went ahead and named him Slim
Skinny is as skinny does
And he's the skinniest of the toes

Then there's the one in the middle
He's the one that loves to wiggle
So he needs a special name
And that is why I call him Dave

The toe that is next in line
Has gotten crooked over time
So I nicknamed him Senator
Which seems to suit him fine

And then there's little Pinky
But doesn't everyone I'm thinking
Try as hard as I might a new name to find
Pinky's the name that comes to mind

Don't you know when it comes to toes
And you have more than one of those
To cut out on the confusion
I gave them all names of my choosing

To those who have said,
That I need more meat on my bones.
Please, leave me the hell alone.

Call me string bean one more ******* time,
And I swear to god, I’ll kamikaze my metabolism.
Just so I don’t have to hear “toothpick” again,
And what most may not know is that:

I have an intimate relationship with food,
and cook with the same heart that I love with.
So let me tell you something:
This heart isn’t something you should **** with.

This heart is surprise bouquets and cabernet,
Romanesco blooms and manta ray.
Caviar salad and salmon fillet,
With rosemary, lemon, and that Old Bay....

So don’t tell me that I need to learn how to eat,
I think the issue is more so that,
You need to learn how to cook.

Other than an unusually fast metabolism,
My trim stature can be attributed to a
Wooden box of my own broken hearts
That I’ve collected over the years of trying to love.

Maybe the people that are the skinniest,
Are the people who lost their appetites a while ago.
After a broken heart or a passing friend,
Or a relationship that was never meant to end.

So let me ask you this.
Tell me what you know about,
Gravity working overtime to keep
A fork away from your mouth?

It’s better to of loved and lost,
Than to have never of loved at all.
But I’ve loved so many,
And lost so much,
It’s no wonder my waist is so small.

When I see someone with...
A little more to love, I get jealous,
Because it shows how much they have loved,
And how little they’ve lost.

Shows that they have consistent love,
A persistent love, that different love.
Whenever you tell me that I need to eat more,
You’re actually saying: patch up your heart.

Put duct tape over all the holes,
And hope that my heart stays afloat --
to somehow trick the freudian part of me
into thinking that everything’s okay.

That everything has been okay.
As if it’s something I have never tried doing,
Because I enjoy being called toothpick.

When you tell me I need more meat on my bones.
I want to tell you to hurt a little,
Feel how heavy a fork gets
when someone’s on your mind.

Feel how hard chewing becomes,
When you’ve already bit off
more than you can handle.

I want you to feel the Carolina Reaper,
Throw burning embers into your wooden casket
Of overthinking, and feel the heat,
When you put yourself under the pressure to eat.

I want you to know the feeling
Of your stomach eating itself from the inside out.
But you can’t bare to remember to eat,
So you just drown it out in stout.

I want you to feel so overwhelmed,
That hours last seconds and days last minutes.
And time escapes you and all you can think about
Is how you’re going to forget about “her”.

I want you to spend every waking moment,
Replaying the same images in your head.
Working all day, and then getting to bed,
Realizing all you had today was butter and bread.

I want for someone to break your heart,
And for you to forget to eat.
And then have to be called stringbean,
Everyday in between.

I want you to see
Filet mignon and mushroom cap stuffing.
King crab legs and honey-glazed duckling,
And feel your stomach do absolutely nothing.
[ . . . ]
But I hope that you never feel this way.

This grief makes for hungriest people,
but makes for the best poetry and music.
And it’s not something I’m willing to share,
With someone who calls me toothpick.

I asked Ana to help me,
be my best friend,
she said it would be hard
and once I start
there's no going back,
sometimes,
some people,
take it too far,
and can't stop.
She said there's no telling the outcome.
She's wrong in that sense,
I know the outcome,
the outcome is beautiful.
It doesn't matter if I'm a corpse,
I swear if this kills me
I'm going to be the skinniest corpse
you ever did see.

I might not have
the perfect smile.
I might not have
the perfect teeth.
I might not be the
skinniest person out there.
I might not be the
most beautiful human being.
I might not be the perfect person
and that's okay, because no one is
perfect.
We all have flaws.
Some are good at hiding them,
some are not.
The thing is,
you have to come to know that you are
special
unique
and beautiful
in your own ways.
I've learned that being negative
doesn't do anything
but make matters worse.
Being negative
doesn't really get you anywhere.
You become mopey
You don't ever feel good enough
about yourself or
about anything.
Change that problem,
I guarantee
that you will feel
so much better afterwards
but you will never achieve
if you keep it with you.
Let it go.
Just, let it go.
No matter how hard it is to forget.
Turn that negative attitude
into a positive attitude.
If I can do it,
you can do it.
I believe
that you will accomplish it
someday at sometime.
Whether you want to
or not,
just try.
Also think,
no one is making you feel that way
but yourself.
See the difference,
**feel the difference.

I am no vessel of perfection.
I'm crazy, unstable and emotional.
My hair never lays quite right.
My clothes aren't the most expensive.

I am no vessel of perfection.
I talk to myself.
I see things that aren't there.
I'm not the skinniest girl ever.

I am no vessel of perfection.
I'm adamant in what I believe.
I'm loud and derranged.
My room is usually messy.

I am no vessel of perfection.
I care too much.
I'm too nice.
I hate school and my grades ****.

I am no vessel for perfection;
and yet, she still seems to think
I am flawless.
I am the sunshine.

She says that I am her world.
She holds me when I cry.
Her kisses make me weak in the knees.
My hands fit perfectly in hers.

She says that I am her world.
She is my last missing puzzle piece.
Her beauty is remarkable.
I don't deserve someone so wonderful.

She says that I am her world;
She says that I am the one.
She asked me to marry her,
and all I could do was gawk.

I am no vessel for perfection;
But for some reason, she seems to think

I make the world go round.

You're the one who made me feel that
I will never be the prettiest,
never be the skinniest,
I will never be the smartest,
never be anything.
So please stop expecting too much from me,
because I'm tired of feeling that I'm not good enough.

This is a story
Of the girl who was never the prettiest.
She was never the skinniest
Never the most popular
Never the absolute smartest
Never invited to all of the parties.
She was above average,
But never the best.
This is the story
Of the girl
Who lived to make everyone around her happy.
The girl who knew what it felt like to hurt
Knew what sobbing sounded like
Late in the night
When no one else was around.
This is the story of the girl
Who held her emotions inside
Because she wanted to help others
Instead of focusing on herself.
The story of the girl who forgot what happy
Felt like.
She forgot what it was like
To wake up in the morning
And not worry about what people might read in her face
Might see in her eyes
Might think about her appearance.
She couldn’t stop wondering
Why people never noticed
That underneath her perfectly composed
Wonderfully put together
Outer layer,
She was tearing at the seams.
This is the story of a girl
Who was living life
On the edge of a breakdown
Until her fall-down
Brought her around.
This is the story of the girl
Who got out of her town
Was forced to figure out who she was
And finally got the opportunity to make herself happy.
Finally stopped caring
What other people might think.
The girl
Who kissed the girl
Because that’s what was going to make her happy.
The girl
Who held her hand
Because that’s what she wanted to do.
The girl
Who came back home for break
And told her friends,
Through the terror and with a shaking voice,
That she has a girlfriend now
And she’s finally happy.
And listened with relief
As her two best friends
Said the things she always knew they would say.
“I don’t care who you like.
I don’t care what you do.
I’m glad you’re making yourself
Happy.”

Love, love.
What is love?
Is it with someone who makes you happy?
For with you, am I happy.
Unrequited.

Fear, fear.
What is fear?
Why are you scared when it's only in your head?
Fear is 90% thought and 10% occurrence (that's what the Adults tell me)
Converse.

Beauty, beauty.
What is beauty? Who is beautiful?
Is it who wears the prettiest clothes, or has the skinniest legs, or the most pleasant face?
Nay, it's who ever has the best personality... right?
Negative.

Intelligence, intelligence.
What is intelligence?
Is it whoever gets the best grades?
Yet those who don't try as hard do better than me.
Exasperated.

"I'm in love with broken.

The weak, the powerless,
Seizable.

I want to help.
          Not them, myself.

"Usage,"
A verb.
A synonym for life.
An alias for Marshall.
_________________
Spa­rked by a girl I was eyeing at the Vanguard performance. She was beautiful with pale skin and dark hair.
Her thigh gap was as large as possible.
Aside from the Jews in the Holocaust, she was one of the skinniest people I've seen.

God. What the hell.
Why must they all be broken?"

Sometimes I worry
that I will always be
alone.

Oh, hey,
aren't I
cliche?
24-years-young
and talking
like an old maid.

But you know what,
**** whoever
decided that just
because you're young,
loneliness isn't a concern,
and just because you
have time ahead of you
doesn't mean
living without love isn't
painful.

Every man,
if you can even call them that,
that peaks my interest
finds a reason to say,
it's not you, it's me,
but at this point,
as I watch everyone around me
settle down and
find someone,
I can't help but wonder if
it's not them, it's me.

I try to think about
what I look like on paper.
I am the first to
admit my flaws.
I'm not the skinniest,
I'm not the funniest,
I'm not the coolest,
I talk too much,
I involve myself too often
and too deeply
in others,
I am overly sensitive,
I have never been popular,
and I'm sure
I could name at least
50 other things someone would
find less-than-favorable.
But then I try to remember that
I am ambitious,
I am bright,
I am kind,
I am empathetic,
I am family-oriented;
I have a lot of hobbies,
I can always hold a conversation,
and I've been told
I'm pretty
at least on an
occasion or two.

I'm not all good,
but I'm not all bad.
And I think, as
cheesy as it sounds,
that everyone is entitled to
love.
So I can't help but wonder
what I'm putting into the
universe,
what I'm lacking,
what more I need to do
before someone can love me;
****, even just staying
interested for more than
a couple weeks,
even that would suffice.

This isn't some self-deprecating,
some depressing
ode of a sad single girl.
It's just a series of words
to question
why
and where
and how
and when
I will find love,
why I'm
still lacking,
who I'm waiting for.

What
explanation
is there for
this loneliness,
for these years I've spent
love-less,
for even the years prior
where the "love" I felt
was so wrong
and destructive?

Is it me?

Or

*Is it them?

But you're totally worth it
You're worth life
You're living for a reason
Maybe you're not the funniest or the skinniest
But I know for sure that you're ******* awesome
So don't cut yourself
Don't **** yourself
I know how it feels
I've been in the hospitals
Don't surrender; don't give up
It gets easier
Thanks for being amazing
Please continue to bless this world with your presence

I was born premature
I came out tiny, skinny,
A whopping 3 pounds and whatever ounces
My parents told me they didn't expect me to have full use of my lungs
But I did
Premature babies don't grow very quickly in early childhood
But I don't think I ever saw that
I mean I always knew I was small
But I never realized how small
Looking back at all the pictures of me,
I was always the smallest, skinniest, and shortest kid around
The boys would scoop me up and carry me down the halls,
But not in the cute princess way
It was more of tossing around a toy
And I'd sit there kicking the hell out of them screaming to put me down
But it never occurred to me there was a reason I was so small
It was fourth grade and I weighed a whopping 47 pounds, the boys still carried me off, and I still didn't take it
Turns out, puberty wouldn't hit me like it would hit all the other girls
In fact, there wasn't even a need for my mom to have "the talk" with me
In fact, at seventh grade I didn't know what the hell a period was
I didn't even where bras.
In fact the first day of high school I wasn't wearing a bra!
And I cried the first day when I realized that ******* everyone had bras on and I didn't even own one
And to my dismay I realized my mom had actually bought my little sister bras, but I didn't have any
And I was the point of interest at hushed family get togethers
Hearing hushed conversations like
Poor baby, it obviously won't happen any time soon
Im sure she will catch up
And I certainly didn't realize why my little sister was taller than me, bigger than me, and now curvier than me!
That was my job ******.
And my favorite was when my mom introduced us to friends and they would always ask my younger sister how high school was and I would have to interrupt and say "Hi I'm the oldest actually"
I never thought it to do with the timing of my birth
But now I'm discovering that it turns out preemies are at high risk for physical developmental problems, learning disabilities (especially with math), ADHD, depression, psychosis, and anxiety in the teenage years
And much more likely if the birth weight was under 4 pounds! (Me)
But just like when I was four and the boys carried me and took turns lifting me off my feet
I won't let it stop me
I won't let it get to me
Being a preemie is tough.
Especially when you were born as early as I was, and as small as I was
I'll always look younger, I'll never look my own age, and I'll never be very curvy,
But I guess that's just something to add to the list of things that are supposed to hold me back.
I won't let them

my friends scoffed at me when i complained about how my weight never gained
it seemed ever-changing
I wasn't trying to brag that i was the skinniest in the room
i was just saying
that I didn't know what it meant because the day before my weight was at a 104 and now it's at a 94 and is that even possible
i stopped eating 1-2 meals a day
and we claimed it on my small stomach but i couldn't figure out how my friends knew that my stomach was small
because i sure didn't
when i said that i hadn't breakfast or lunch yet what i meant was i haven't gotten help yet
people thought they knew how to fix me and so they glued me to my seat and forced me to eat three spoons of potato salad and i shamed myself for a week
I told myself i was weak
i later found out my eating was no longer a choice
or rather, my lack of eating,
because some days i just gave up and took a brownie because I wanted to so badly or maybe I took seven and later that night, things weren't alright because I couldn't go one hour without hiding in the bathroom
because i physically could not, no matter how hard i tried, the dragon named food, was untamable, it would not stay down in the deep cavern of my stomach and my throat began to burn from its fire, every hour when i was woken up from sleep
the dragon suddenly wasn't my only fear
because I really wanted to make those cookies with you or go to the grocery store without having a panic attack
the vending machine became my venting machine
people surround me with the food i can't eat and although I can't eat ribs
i can certainly see my ribs
and my wrist bones
and my hip bones, they feel like glass shards at war with my skin
and my vertebrae and i get it that people are skinnier than me but that doesn't make it okay because i feel like i'm a living x ray
maybe the next day I can eat all three meals because i haven't for four days
and yes sometimes I do feel fat and no i'm not going to finish that
and i cried when my parents said I couldn't have a donut and when my new doctor said i should do a healthier diet she said i should try it and I wanted to so badly but if you look closely in the word diet there's also the word die and it's hard to go on a diet when your whole life is already a plan of when I can
can i eat
but my only constant friend understands and sometimes i'm so scared and I have to hold his hands or rather his handles his name is bucket and he lives at the foot of my bed
and this is a poem is telling you it's not my choice
my food isn't the only thing i can't keep down its also my voice
please stop assuming that the skinny girl wants to be skinny or that she just "forgot" to have her dinner because she must have a terrible memory if she does it every night
it's a really hard fight
but lately things have been going alright
the dragon seems a little less fiery
and i guess it can inspire me
to tell you that just being thin isn't an automatic win

I am not them.
They are not me.
We are meant to contrast;
Not compare.
So, why can't you see,
I just want to be me.
I might not be
The smartest
Fastest
Funniest
Prettiest
Or skinniest
But Mom and Dad
Shouldn't I be enough,
Just being me?

I remember the day I realized I was fat.
I was probably ten years old, and a little chunkier than my peers.
I still have that feeling now, over ten years later.
Looking in the mirror everyday, lifting my shirt, looking at my body.
But it's not good enough.
I want to be smaller.

I used to not eat hardly at all.
Just enough to make my mom feel like I was.
Then, I barely ate because I wasn't hungry, and I was too busy.

Now, at my skinniest as an adult, I still don't feel good enough.
Sometimes I think about what I'd look like if I lost twenty pounds.
Sometimes I look in the mirror and I'm okay with how I look, but it never lasts for long.
That hate will creep up with no warning, and then I'm back to pointing out my fat spots.
I just want to feel beautiful.

i may not have the skinniest hands
but i still want someone to hold them
i may not have the smallest waist
but i still want someone to cuddle me
and i may not let people in
but i still need someone to love me

you quickly quipped cunning comments
in the skinniest jeans west of the mississippi
sighing softly then,
glancing to the left to keep an eye on the spider
scurrying on the wall.

you emerged triumphantly
luminously translucent
like a goddess of the noon sun

your eyes skipped mine in a beat
seconds behind my own
and with the final say from your fist
the walls began to fall

and outside, the small southwestern suburb
watches with fascination as the spider skids away.

Landlocked love,
Stowaway hearts,
With or Without a spark.
Fire spurs out of the muddy dark,
It whimpers and cries,
Theres a deep battle inside,
The day the stowaway heart arrives.

The skinniest lover,
Have the loudest hearts.
Landlocked love,
Doomed from the start,
A watery grave,
The conversation fades,
To the depths of a page,

Landlocked lovers,
cobblestone soul,
rough embers bush up,
as the fire unfolds,
Moon lights gaze,
against the amber bleached skin,
The day will come when we can be friends.

The teenage boy struggling to fall asleep said,
“What am I if I'm not the skinniest guy?  
What am I if I don't have enough abs?
What if I'm not the stereotypical strong man?
Can I still be somebody?
Can I be somebody if I don't have many special talents?
Or if my special talents are what some would call weird?
If I don't make the pros, am I still good enough?
If I don't go to college, is that okay?
If I lose my friends or my family, will I still know who I am?
Will I still be me?”
At this point God stepped in and said,
“Of course you will still be you.  
I created you, I made you, and even if
You don't know who you are, I do.  
You are my special child,
And I knew everything about you from the very beginning.  
So don't worry.  I love you.”
And so the boy let his head fall,
And his eyes close,
And surrendered his everything, his all
To the one who knows.

The calories
Can’t you feel them?
Churning in your stomach
Being digested slowly
Oh so slowly
Whispering promises
Of the weight they’ll add
Of the large hips
The pouchy stomach
Taunting you with reminders
Of how weak you are
All you had to do
Is say no
But you didn’t
You thought with your stomach
Not your brain
So this is your punishment
The extra weight
The big hips
Bigger stomach
Because you’re too weak to say no
And too afraid to throw up
But you’re in a perfect shape
To count them
To watch the numbers climb
And you’re trapped
In this hell
That you’re too weak to escape from
Too scared to run from
And too ashamed to seek help
So carve those hips
So big
So fat
Like that Christmas ham
Your dad just carved
So don’t stop those sit-ups
You can’t stop
Until you can see those toes
Standing up
And looking down
So look in that mirror
That blob of fat is you
Don’t listen to the lies
Everyone said you were so skinny
But now they say
“You’re too skinny”
But that’s not true
To be skinny
Is to be beautiful
So how can you be too skinny
You want to be the most beautiful
So you have to be the skinniest
And they’re wrong anyways
You’re not too skinny
They’re lying
How can they not see those rolls
Those fat hips
They just want you to fail
To not be beautiful
Or maybe they don’t understand
That the blood is beautiful
Rolling down your hips
Releasing the fat
The toxins
The calories
So don’t stop
Keep doing those sit-ups
Can you see your toes yet?
Can you count your ribs?
Are those hips nothing but bone?
Can you be strong?
Learn to say no?
An apple a day
Keeps the doctor away
So one apple a day
Is all you get
And water
The water is all you need
It’s your only friend
No calories
It doesn’t taunt you from your stomach
It cleans
Washes away your sins
It makes you pure
You want to pure
Don’t you?
The dizziness will pass
Like the weight slowly is
But it’s not enough
It will never be enough
You have to be the most beautiful
No one can be skinnier than you
So keep carving your hips
Don’t stop the sit-up
You did it!
Look at your ribs
See the skin stretch over them
Those hips are nothing but bone
Now you are truly skinny
Truly beautiful
But you know who’s skinnier?
The skeletons in your closet
They’re the beautiful ones
You have surpassed all earthly beauty
So why can’t you surpass theirs?
All you have to do
Is die
You can do it
You’ve made it this far
Don’t be afraid
When you die
You’ll be mourned
As the most beautiful of them all
Just take those pills
It won’t take much
Any calories will leave you
As quickly as they entered
And the water
The sweet, purifying water
Will wash your sins away
Don’t leave a note
Just do it now
Don’t think of them
They’re just holding you back
They’re selfish
Not wanting you to be beautiful
........
You did it!
You’re the skinniest of them all
This is what we wanted
This is great
The only issue now
Is that you can’t celebrate

My best friend's nickname is Ana.
No one can see her, but only I can feel her, everybody can see her in me.
I take it as a compliment because I am winning.
But everyone who says they love and care for me sees it as me losing and need help.
But I am winning and don't need help, winning at being the skinniest, winning at eating no calories. Winning at seeing and feeling the bones spike through my body. Doing all of this with the help of my best friend Ana. Shes all I need.
Why does everyone say I am losing, when I am winning?

I wanted to try new things this year.
Instead of accepting the limitations people put on me
I wanted to step outside of the box.
I wanted to set goals and not stop until I get them done.

I'm like a butterfly trying to get out of a cocoon
Or a baby chick pecking it's way from the egg.
I have a lot of potential inside me, just waiting to be released.

One of my biggest passions is acting.
For a few hours I get to be someone else, putting on their shoes
Living their story and temporarily forgetting the thoughts people put on me.
I've been trying to make it in the industry since I was twelve but it's like I'm
Running up the down escalator. It seems like I'm going nowhere.

I will never be the skinniest or the prettiest girl according to the eyes of
The entertainment industry but I've accepted that.
I won't starve myself or force myself to be skinny just so someone will pay attention
To me. All I've got is my talent and my ability to try to change your mind.

But it never works. I'm always overlooked by someone skinnier, prettier, and taller than me.
Because of my looks I'm put in the back row, cast away to the side because the person with the long legs and straight teeth and size zero waist is the one people want to see.

I stopped trying. I accepted the role of the helper, the background.
I let the pretty girl go and stopped doing things outside of the box people gave me.
No contests, no auditions, no movies.
Just the simple, heavier, not-as-pretty girl who stands in the back smiling while I hold your coat.

But I don't want that this year. I want to meet my goals, try these auditions
Enter these contests even though I'm positive I will not win.
I know the person with the thigh gap, long locks, legs for miles will beat me in the contest or beat me in the auditions.
But I can always be proven wrong. I can always be the one chose, and it will never happen if I don't try.

I can't let other people define me.
To truly know my own potential
I gotta try.

I still remember the days when you had promised and said we would last forever. Forever and always remember? Do you remember telling me that if our forever and always didn't really turn out to be, that you'd still be here by my side and how you would always be my friend. Even if we weren't what we used to be. Forever and always just like you had promised. But I guess over time forever and always never meant anything and promises are just meant to be broken. Some days I start to wonder, what if I had never let those three little but very important words slip my mouth 'l love you'. What if I never said yes or if I hadn't said all those cute little things we both wished would happen but never did.  Sometimes I would over think my past decisions and ask myself why had I gotten myself into this mess and why I have let it get this far. I myself knowing I would never be able to break out of this cage. Even if it meant hurting myself and even the others around me that I love. Some day's I wonder how my life would be without you, how I would be if you hadn't entered my life like you did. I must say my life isn't perfect and I sure in hell know i'm not either. I'm not the skinniest girl nor am I the prettiest. I have problems and I deal with them on a daily basis. And you even knew this yet you never stayed. But in the end I am happy ?to say I got over you and the way you had treated me. I know I may never get over you as for you were my first love. But I will never ever forgive you for what you have done to me.