I Crave Collarbones This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

November 2, 2012
Please, do not stare at my bony ribcage or whisper about the empty patches on my scalp. I know what I look like; you do not have to be concerned.

Do not say I am sequacious or insane, either. She promised that being thin was more satisfying than food will ever taste. I put faith in her to weigh so little.

You cannot see her, but I call her Ana. Ana taught me to turn away from food and to ignore the taunting from the kitchen. When my stomach was growling like an untamed dog, she comforted me. Ana is a part of me, and she is a true friend. She never gave up on me like society did.

Why do you keep suggesting that I should eat already? I’m looking better every day. I will never make the same mistake and ruin my body with calories. I will not be labeled as the “fat friend”. Never again will I let my thighs rub against each other, or have chunky cellulite rippling across my stomach. I starve myself because it makes me happy. I do not care if I am dying, or that my stomach has swallowed itself in. I have worked hard for this, and my bones show how beautiful and thin I have become. My ribcage is a symbol of commitment, do you not see? I want my collarbones to peer through my flesh and my hipbones to jut out my sides …

I really don’t want to talk about this anymore, so move off the subject. Did you see the game last night? Ha, I didn’t either, and no, I do not want to catch a bite to eat before we go. Stop asking me that.

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