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Empty
“Are you actually going to eat all that?”
“I haven’t eaten in two days”
Please stop
“This is my first meal of the day”
“What do you need a therapist for?”
Please stop
“Nothing taste as good as skinny feels”
“I’m so fat”
Please stop
The great concept of hearing something over and over again,
Is that you start to replay it in your mind
You start to believe it
I started to believe it
And I haven’t stopped since,
It’s been 2 years
I’m an addict
Not like an addict of drugs, alcohol, stealing
A different type
A type that values what everyone else thinks over herself
The type that listens to the rewiring of her brain more then the growls from her stomach
It’s gotten to the point where she no longer hears those growls
She’s an addict
She’s an addict of restricting and bingeing
An addict who tells herself “If you eat this, you can’t eat at all tomorrow”
An addict who believes a seven day juice cleanse can solve all of her problems
An addict who thinks she takes up too much space in a room
She was lonely and tired at first
But she got used to it
She got used to the feeling of going to sleep on an empty stomach
The feeling of pushing her fingers down her throat to get rid of the toxins some call food
She felt pleasure in the gagging sound she would mask by pretending to be in the shower
She took the risk each time she gagged, each time she went to sleep on water and gum, each time she went to the doctors for iron medication
Sometimes she questioned, if it was worth it
The answer was yes
Being skinny has always been worth it
Who cares
The people around her don’t
They think she looks good
Doesn’t looking good always mean you feel good?
Do I make hair loss look good to you?
Do you love the way my teeth scream as my stomach acid deteriorates each, one by one?
Does starving yourself to the point where you have a heart attack scream cute?
Does telling yourself “It’s okay, it’s healthy” as your body shuts down look good to you?
So when asked the question, “Are you actually going to eat all that?”
No, I’m sorry for even trying.
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