It’s a bad habit,

i know i said i’d stop but,

if we’re confessing here,

i secretly restarted,

i fell back in love,

with being out of love with myself,

I quietly scream at myself all day,

just to sneak around and self destruct,

suppressing the gargled screams of my stomach,

to appease the ones in my head,

the truth is my body looks different than what it feels,

i’m a figure cursed with extra skin,

and i must shed it before it ends me,

but you don’t understand what i mean by this,

so you don’t get why it’s so easy for me,

to forget the bare necessity,

but for me it’s not necessary,

the art of eating isn’t enjoyable,

it’s a form of torture,

but i think your right about me needing help,

that’s too bad i don’t want it,

and you know what,

the idea of being healthy is great,

but right now i’m comfortable with having loads of love to give to others,

but running into a shortage when it comes to myself.