Am I pretty yet?
My ribs show underneath my skin
I worship the gym
I count calories like you count payments
I have this urge to binge. Urge to purge. Urge to restrict.
I nearly restricted myself into the hospital.
I restricted myself to a stress fracture. And a reinjury a year later.
I restricted myself enough to lose 20 lbs.
I hate my body.
I worship calorie counting.
Thin has become my goddess
She has a vice around my throat and is always pulling the chain closer to her bloodstained throne
She whispers lies into my ears at night and sends me nightmares of becoming fat
I look in the mirror and see soft pillowy flesh where there is none
I can’t imagine being beautiful to anyone
I just feel scarred and broken and incomplete.
Day after day passes in this way
How much longer I can survive this day
I don’t know.
The voice keeps saying just a little bit less, just run a bit further.
Sometimes when I black out after a workout I just say hey you didn’t sleep very well last night you’re okay you can hit the gym again tomorrow
I avoid mirrors
I can’t look in the mirror without crying without my heart wailing who is that girl why is she so fat and ugly? No wonder she’s so lonely it’s because she’s scarred and broken and no one could ever love her this way we have to do something!
Do WHAT? do what exactly? Show me the way and I will follow it
But right now the only way that brings temporary relief… is to skip a meal. To go to sleep hungry. To feel like I’m getting thinner. Fading away.
Covergirls don’t cry after their face is made- Alessia Cara
No. We don’t cry. It hurts too much to cry. Crying admits the brokenness inside, brings it naked and bleeding to the surface so people can see what we have tried so hard to hide.
Our faces go hard and blank. Our fists clench. And we fight on.