my grandmother is dead and it is my fault
turns out the eating disorder doesn't just **** only you.
...
stressful.

skin and bones
what i wish to be
what i'm starting to become
thats what i'm turning into
as the dread begins to set in
as i begin to realize what i am doing
i realize i can't stop

pounds dropping like flies
feeling drained all the time
a constant calculator whirring in my mind
conscious of every bite
aware of every activity i do
always counting
adding
subtracting
from my daily calorie count

i love drinking cold water on an empty stomach
you can feel it flowing down your throat
as it assures you that your stomach
is indeed empty
the water comforts you and
all your worries
all your sorrows
the cold, cold water washes them all away

They can be dark
They can be bright
Reflecting all the brilliant colors from the
morning light

They can seem empty
They can seem full
Expressing the constant ebb and flow of
society's pull

Some will remain open
Some will remain forever closed
Waiting for that moment when it's OK to be
exposed

Some will invite rigidity
Some will invite change
Hanging on to the notion that "what is"
doesn't always have to remain

It's all about perception
Eyes come in many different sizes, hues, and
clarity
So, those windows to nowhere may also be the
windows to everywhere for me

i'm getting bad again.
i'm kind of vain. i look at my reflection often.
i feel terrible every time.
it kind of reminds me of when my baby teeth would get loose.
i'd push my tooth side to side with my tongue.
there'd be a twinge of pain, but it felt good.
locking myself in my bathroom and pulling my shirt up to see my waist is like that.
it hurts me every time---
constantly reminding me of how i'll never look the way i should,
but i can't stop.

my room was filled with darkness, except for the flashlight i was holding.
pacing and pacing and pacing
crying and crying and crying
my note to you was written in blue ink that looked like scribbles.
you told me i could talk to you but you became angry whenever i did.
i decided i would give up.
i couldn't bear starving myself anymore.
i couldn't look at myself anymore.
i couldn't stand watching you rapidly distance yourself from me.
my hips were bleeding and the blood was dripping down my thighs and sticking to my sweatpants.
i looked through every drawer and every cabinet in my bedroom.
i stayed silent because my family was sleeping peacefully and thought i was, too.
i couldn't find the pills.
i looked through the same drawers and cabinets hoping that i would see those tiny white circles in that tiny plastic bag.
i couldn't find the pills.
i decided i would go to bed.
i lit the note for you on fire and threw it out of my bedroom window and into my lawn.
all that pacing and all that crying tired me out
and i curled up in bed with blood all over my legs
and gently cried myself to sleep.

Her body is not an empty canvas,
it's a hilly mountain, uneven and lopsided
some parts portruding -- sometimes soft,
sometimes bony
It's the waves of the sea, ebb and flow, changing
One time she is okay with what she sees,
the next she wants nothing more but to get rid
of the excess, of the parts that don't please her
Her body is crossed with scars, all the things
she doesn't like highlighted in white,
marked

She's not happy

yesterday my mom told me a secret
that of you starve yourself your mouth will begin to taste sweet
the sweetest taste you may ever experience
but it makes your breath rancid
i don't know if she told me
because she knows i hate bad breath
or because i have a sweet tooth