We're anything and everything but atypical.

Anorexia. Bulimia. OSFED, binge or orthorexia.

Hell, there's even hybrids now: diabulimia.

There's a name for every demon I've eaten. For the thing that lives inside of me; feeding off of starvation.

There's power in it. You know, the kind of sick courage that comes from skipping meals and counting calories.

Lower numbers, lower anxieties.

When you're thin it's an eating disorder, they say.

When you're fat it's called a diet, they say.

We're surviving on pills and Coke Zero. This isn't the 80's, honey, SlimFast doesn't work as well as ******* do.

I was taught that pain is beauty, but laxatives on an empty stomach are far from pretty.

I don't want to be beautiful, I want to be nothing. Not a thing in this world. What do I want?

To be like an Angel: perfection on the inside and out.

To be both powerful and protected. In control and out of it.

Is this Schrodinger's eating disorder?

It goes deeper than food. Farther than the veins; blue and translucent underneath my skin.

I'm cold and gone, honey. This thing has got a hold on me.

I'm water, tea, early mornings and late nights. Scales, chewing gum and breath mints.

I'm crushed by the weight hanging off of my bones, and I don't know how to get better.

I like it when people ask what my secret is
How I managed to lose so much weight
How I turned my life around
How I became what I am today

So here's what I tell them:

Count your calories
Avoid starch
Eat more proteins
But don't eat too much

Exercise daily
Drink lots of water
Eat healthy food
You'll get thinner

Have a goal
Work towards it
Never slack off
You'll get fit

No matter how they discourage you
Don't believe it
Believe  in yourself
You can do it!

With a smile, I give them hope
The perfect weight loss plan to help them cope
But there's one burden I have to bear
That's the secret I can never share:


Follow through that plan is what I wished I had done
But I just end up puking in the toilet after every meal

perhaps,
the most abuse i have experienced
was not when my ex boyfriend
controlled, threatened, or lied to me
but perhaps
it's the relationship
between two people
i call mind and body

you see,
mind and body are in a relationship
but mind is insecure and jealous
but body loves mind so much
they put up with it,
mind has forced body
to pick at wounds
and run blades
over their fair skin,
mind has told body
not to eat so much
so body began overeating,
but then mind forced them
to shove a toothbrush
at the back of their throat
to bring it back up,
mind has made body
overdose on laxatives
to the point
of almost no return,
but it's not too late
for body to heal

in fact,
it is finally time
for mind to realize the pain
they have caused body,
it is time for mind
to apologize
and change their ways,
and it is time
for mind to accept
body as they are
because all body ever wanted
was the acceptance
and the love of mind

and perhaps,
mind has finally come to peace
within themself
to help reverse the damage
they have caused to body
because all along
body cared so deeply
about mind
that they never gave in
to the signals that maybe
it was time to end things
for the both of them

but you don't have to worry
about that happening,
mind and body are working
on their relationship now
so that time
will never come
for either of them

I have a family
Extended members don't know
But then again
Neither do my parents

If they knew would they cry
Could I watch the tears streak down their cheeks as my practiced story is retold and
Sinks in

Would they tell friends,
Turn a blind eye to the misconceptions of my disease
Maybe protect me when my back is turned
Or would they weep
Crocodile tears
Then love again
Love again as they were before
But with new information

Do you think if I shouted my demons across the seven seas
Would pirates look at me in awe of my strength
In awe of my brittle bones that have stood strong without help
Would they look at themselves and remember the battles they've had with
Themselves
And believe in me when I don't

If I told my parents
Finally
As my therapist tells me to
Would they hold me
Even when I hate being touched
The way skin holds skin
How fat of mine is transferred with fat of yours
How I have always hated it
But it doesn't matter when affection comes before personal beliefs

It disgusts me
My body
I hope you know that
I hope you realise why I can't be touched
By family
Because you broke me bulimia

And cracks aren't healed with hugs.

A girl with an eating disorder
With a monster trapped inside her
Drowning in a world of
Scales
Diet Pills
Alcohol
And perfection
Trying to reach out
And find the help that she so desperately needs
But instead she is met with
Disbelieving, supportive parents
Distrustful, but sometimes helpful staff
And anorexic, bulimic girls
Just like her
Girls along the same journey she is
On the road to recovery
Some get better
Some give up
Because you can not help a person
who does not want to be helped
It is not easy
Will never be easy
But she must push through the pain and suffering
Just like you and I have to

Mama, can a cat’s milk get spoiled?
I think it can.
Your milk was spoiled.
It made all of my thoughts go bad.
I no longer had balance.
I no longer had confidence.
Love tasted disgusting.
So I purged. I always smell so rotten.
So tell me, momma, how can someone raised on spoiled milk ever be beautiful?
And every bite I take tastes like S.P.O.I.L.E.D. M.I.L.K.
So sick. So comforting.

Eat. Purge.
Eat. Purge.
Purge. Purge.

I purged a baby from my abdomen.
Just don’t eat.
Do not eat.
Swallow all those struggles.
Let them eat YOU instead.

God knows you want that **** chocolate.
But you smother the craving and wrap it in your words.
Spit those words. Gunshots.
Bad girls do not deserve chocolate.