(I don’t normally put trigger warnings but there is a lot of pro ana tips that I don’t want people to follow, and heavy references to disordered eating/body image I guess? I’m not quite sure)

I’d definitely promise I was quite the honest person,

I’d declare I was logical, well rounded,

I’d claim my morals were fixed;

But don’t we all say things that aren’t true,

Little white lies to placate our conscience.

Don’t we all believe the lies we tell ourselves,

Convinced their what we need?

Don’t we

Don’t we

Don’t we all.

You see, I made a mistake

A silly, silly mistake

My bitter thoughts themselves

Were not the crime

Merely

The sly perpetrators

Or perhaps the ones that drove me too it

Before crying at my funeral.

We live in a society where disordered eating is encouraged:

Crash diets that fix all our problems incessantly advertised

Conflicting information, eat this, don’t eat that

That I can never make sense of

Constant pressure, do better

Try harder

Can you blame me for crumbling?

Battered tower

Can you?

When the storm was so angry

Looking me in the eyes

Can you really?

This unfamiliar point

Is a dangerous edge

Of which I have tried

And fought.

I used to find meaning in philosophy

Religion that I fell to in awe

Scraped knees

Bless the uneven floor

My greatest stability.

But sometimes,

At some points

You get tired.

No, not tired

Not quite.

You get numb,

Gut wrenchingly numb

Like your soaked through to the bone

But you can’t quite care

When drowning feels so comforting.

Gasping for air feels so futile.

The screams seem so loud, this being a chance of them stopping.

The screams being my thoughts.

You see there’s regulations I have to follow

To a point, they are my law

My God

2 meals

That’s all that’s acceptable

20 chews

For each bite

2 litres of water

At the very least

2000 calories

Well that’s a sin

Rules

Rules

Stupid rules.

But maybe then I’ll get what I desire

Bulging cheekbones

Sunken collarbones

Gap between my thighs.

Then more

Jutting kneecaps

Flat stomach

Count my ribs.

Cause isn’t being thin being happy?

And being happy’s all I ever wanted

Being ok

Being safe

Being fine.

All these silly little wishes,

Dropping like childhood innocence

Washed away by tears.

I used to think I was quite the honest person

I used to say I was logical

Well rounded

I used to believe my morals were

Fixed;

Well

I want to be a skeleton

Not a person

I want to be emaciated

Not well rounded

Like my weight my morals

Fluctuate, never good enough.

And so enter the lies

I ate earlier.

I’m not hungry,

What! I’m thin why would I diet?

I want to fade

I want to fade in a soft way

In a slow way.

I want to be nothingness

As in oblivion

I want my absence to be notably there.

Cause maybe then I’ll be ok,

Ok enough to see people

Ok enough to go out

Ok enough to like myself;

But I’m never ok

Never.

I just keep losing things

Letting things fall

Like that number on the scale.

Forgetting the things

That matter.

Happiness is warmth

So if happiness is being thin

Why am I so fucking cold

So lost.

This map of bones I trace

Across my wilting skin

Following desperately

Again and again

But it always leads

To emptiness.