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"skinniest" poems
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.
0
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 4:32 PM UTC
Calorie Count
The skinniest tulip Sways gently in a breeze Comfortably and serene Never does it ask why or how It just knows that life is nice And the sun is warm against it's growing leaves Then a storm comes around And the tulip finds a new emotion Fear And as she trembles she begins to wonder why A sky that hung blue and brilliant above her Decided to rain it's wrath down upon her When she is innocent of anything And though the tulip Loses a petal that day She's grown a little taller That tulip continues to thrive that season She gets very used to the rain and terror So no longer does she ask why But suddenly the winds get colder And the tulip begins to wilt With nothing to help her As she spreads her leaf to the sky She wonders How a caring world Could watch her die Could see her helplessness And seize to aide Why Mother Earth, so prosperous and great Let the tulip down that day How something that helped her grow That told her to always be strong How Could it let her down that way?
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Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
Petals
Cassie and Lia Or Ana and Mia? I don't know who we are anymore Best friends or competitors? Both fighting for a place at the morgue As the first snow falls, Our blood intermingles In a pact to be the skinniest of them all And no one else can see That we're stuck in a blizzard Doing anything for beauty Icy veins and frozen hearts Numbers shrinking on the scale Metallic blades leaving scars Pretty pills and bathroom stalls, Diet coke and working out, This is all that we are We used to be innocent Cassie and Lia, But when I look in the mirror I only see Ana and Mia
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Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 10:43 AM UTC
Wintergirls
Mirror mirror on the wall Who's the skinniest of them all? Mirror mirror I don't like what I see For once, can the skinniest one be me? Mirror mirror on the wall I want to be the skinniest of them all Mirror mirror I'll make you a deal Will you make me beautiful if I skip all my meals? Mirror mirror on the wall I'm still not the skinniest of them all Mirror mirror I don't like the number on the scale Can I please skip to the end of this tale? Mirror mirror on the wall Why aren't I the skinniest of them all? Mirror mirror I only ate an apple today Is that enough to keep the doctor away? Mirror mirror on the wall Didn't I deserve to be the skinniest of them all? Mirror mirror my skin as white as snow Won't be satisfied until I reach 0 Mirror mirror shattered on the ground I try to scream but I can't make a sound Mirror mirror, what have you done to me? I once was your slave but now I want free Mirror mirror I lay destroyed just like you I won't let you take my life too Mirror mirror I lay barely breathing on the floor Hoping a prince will find me with a cure
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Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
Mirror Mirror
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
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Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
My Toes Have Names
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.
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Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
Ana
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.
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Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
Negative or positive? Nothing is perfect.
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.
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Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 12:15 PM UTC
Imperfect.
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.
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Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 12:09 PM UTC
Stop.
Even the deepest blue couldn't make you feel as though it's all okay Strangers arms grasping at your empty bones Filling the gaps in your soul Cars racing past the window on dark cold nights Leaving you silent on grey balconies The city is busy and you're alone Smoking your cigarette Hoping that chemicals will be better than crying Blasting music and dancing in your skinniest little dress because at least the mirror loves you Ripping up photos of forgotten memories Memories that broke you and shattered your heart like a glass piggy bank Wrapping lonely duvets around your  broken silhouette Your body curls and your heart races and your senses spike because being alone is horrifying without someone by your side
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Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC
Empty nights
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?
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Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 12:50 AM UTC
It's Not You, It's Me?
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?
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101
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.
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May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 8:31 PM UTC
Exasperated
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.”
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Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 2:41 AM UTC
The Girl
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.”
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62
"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?"
0
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
Untitled
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
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Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
I don't usually do this...
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 holy **** 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
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Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 2:21 AM UTC
Preemie
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 holy **** 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
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42
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.
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Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
The skinniest angel
I sat on my bathroom floor, body shaking uncontrollably. I had just thrown up another meal, I couldn't stop it from happening. "Oh yes, dear mother, the food was delightful…" Little did she know, that nothing I ever ate, stayed to be digested. People might ask, why would she do this to herself? Well, she might answer: There once was a girl who wasn't the tiniest, the prettiest, or skinniest, who longed to be someone else. She weighed 130 pounds, although one might not think this as heavy, all the other kids did. She was bullied and called names: she was fat and ugly. Evenutally, there came a point to where she broke down. Becoming what she is, was the best decision, she'd ever made…but laying there on the bathroom tile…she wasn't sure.
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Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC
Mother's Meals I Never Ate
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.
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Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
Thinner
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?
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May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 9:44 PM UTC
being me
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
0
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
i still want
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.
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Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
This is for the Walls in our Rec Room
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.
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Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
Locked Love
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.
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Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 3:29 PM UTC
Surrender
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?
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Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
My Best Friend Ana