This feeling has sunk deep into my soul and I’m afraid that my body isn’t mine anymore.
24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
There’s no time for resting.
This feeling makes me wish that the next day to come unfortunately wouldn’t.
My mind is a darkened black space,
taken up with thoughts that will never be said in fear of not being good enough for even herself.
The days that go by have formed a routine.
Whether I have a cough syrup stained mouth or a rust colored wrist.
It’s all the same; repetition is key.
I remember how happy I used to be – the smiles on all of their faces.
But, those faces seemed to drop like flies as the time went by.

I never thought I would stand over your grave because you chose heroin over the people who tried so desperately to save you.
I never thought that a man so close to me would abandon his own child for the sweet taste of the liquid you always seemed to run to.
I never thought someone in my own house would pop pills and steal under the roof where they grew up.
Addiction was something that I never thought I would battle,
but here I am fighting myself in front of the mirror, trying to convince myself that I will never be like you.

Deep down inside, the highs you felt run through my bones and the lows send me crashing down even worse.
I spend my days beating my thighs and pinching my stomach until my skin creates beautiful purple bruises.
My knuckles are scarred from emptying my stomach of the food made with love.
And my mind is fucked up from the food that I’ve convinced myself I’m undeserving of.

25 pounds down, but my world is still spinning.

The crimson red lines healed to tell a story of a girl who was told to “Destroy what destroys you.”
And the bathroom floor is clean with no intention of feeling the texture of skinned knees on it for a little while.
Addictions are hard to overcome, no matter what they may be.
But I’ll be here until the moment the words “it gets better” can finally set me free