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lamignonette

we’ll be alright ♡

angelicdewdrop

BODY CHECKING

a short poem by a recovered girl. i think.

—

I’m 21 and I’m starving.

My knees are sticking out weird and my spine pokes against my shirt.

I’ve made this choice and I cannot go back on my word.

It’s been almost a full year of “I’m not hungry,” and “i ate earlier.”

but i am hungry. and i did not eat earlier.

i push my food around with my fork and fake chew. Nobody notices. Nobody’s noticed anything except to say how great I look and how it’s incredible I can eat so much and stay so slim. At this point I welcome a back handed compliment, because it means it’s working.

I’m 21 and I’m absolutely starving. I look in the mirror and I suck in my stomach. It’s concave. Just the way I like it. I’ll shove my knees back and my thighs apart when I stand. My room mate will knock on my door around five. I ate earlier, did you forget? I don’t want to go out to dinner. I want to stay inside and try and find the angles that work best for me. How to walk without my thighs rubbing together. I’ll see how high up my fingers can go latched around my arm, starting from the wrist. I’m almost to my shoulder. The thought makes my brain ping. I’m high of what can be. I’m bottling rage for myself, enough rage to feed a small family. I am full.

I’m 21 and I’m fucking starving. I can’t hold conversations without thinking about food. Or when I can throw up. Or how many steps I need to burn off one marshmallow. Everything hurts all the time. My body is always aching. My throat and teeth feel rotted. My hairs falling out in clumps when I shower. I’m covered in bruises. I chain smoke for breakfast. I smoke weed for dinner. Maybe some ecstasy for lunch. I sit with the thought of being prettier. Am I even pretty now? Am I too short to even be thin? Doesn’t matter. Take the picture and post it.

I’m 21 and I’m starving. I’ll feed myself at 28. Maybe.