Half-life

Anorexia is the half life

Half eating

Half not eating

Half consuming

Half purging

Half living

Halfway in the hospital

I visited someone’s house. And I thought hey I can have half of that. My nutritionist would be proud of me.

Half?

Why can’t I have a whole?

Why can’t my mind, my body, my spirit, be whole?

Who and what tore it in half? Excuse me I want a whole life not this half BS I’m in right now

Why should I only have half the doughnut? Seriously?! Doughnuts are round to symbolize wholeness. They have a hole in the middle but are whole as a round.

Why should I love halfway live halfway sleep halfway eat halfway

What happened to that life of desperate passion?

My dusky dreams to travel the world, drink in the sky, drink and eat and love

Take in the wholeness of life and dream big, do big

What happened to make me this way?

How many dead ends and slip-ups and purges and repressed anger and fear can I hold in before I break?

I can’t tell. Touch me. Am I broken? Do I work? Am I okay?

FINE. I’m FINE. I say that because that’s what you’ll believe. Since I’m not in the hospital yet it’s so easy to just say oh lookin kinda skinny.

Oh, lookin’ kind of DYING.

DYING.

That’s what this is. Being half. Eating half. Living half. Is a slow, certain death sentence. It’s amazing to me that so many people don’t know what dying looks like.

Dying looks like the number of young girls with anorexia nervosa or bulimia. Dying looks like the seemingly perfect party girl who pukes her dinner into the toilet after a night out. Dying looks like those models who practically kill themselves to have “the look” they need for the fashion industry. Dying looks like the girl who is so depressed at all this perfection she can’t ever attain that she gives up on herself and finally believes what she hears- The fashion industry that sucks in insecurities and blows out half promises of happiness and contentment all the while sending the message there’s something wrong with you.

Maybe it’s not me that has the problem. Maybe it’s everyone.

Everyone anorexic has had a someone. Everyone has a someone.

The whole world cries out when someone suffers as much as we drug and drink and disconnect it is always there screaming our name and begging for help and comfort and we turn our backs on what hurts as though it will make it better. As though the pain of others is not our business. No wonder we’re so sick.

The reason we turn our backs

Is because if we saw her eyes

We’d know what we don’t want to know

Secrets, suffering, depression, mental illness, drugs, addiction, despair, life like hell, life half in half out

And then once seen, the windows to the soul, once she became a human

It’d be impossible to turn our backs on suffering again.

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