where tears turn into blood, and screams into silence
dear anorexia and bulimia,
oh, how I loathe the relationship we have.
you’ve raised me up higher than I ever could have dreamed,
only to throw me down
from a higher point each time,
cracking my bones and drawing blood on the concrete.
but I keep crawling back to you,
dragging my sorry bum through mud and grime.
can’t you see I just want your attention?
your approval?
can’t you give me any credit?
over and over I destroy myself for your satisfaction
constantly shifting positions to avoid resting on one bone
for far too much time,
taunting and torturing myself in drops of water and crumbs of cake.
you promised me that I’d be rewarded for my efforts,
that people would look at me
with humble eyes
and a gracious smile
and that you would be there with me, the entire time.
where are you now?
you wanted great
I provided spectacular
but then you realized you could ask for superior,
and suddenly
all my work turned fruitless.
you walked into my life
as if it were a worn in welcome mat
without an invitation,
my heart missing from each cursive letter
you promised me that you could
make everything right again
take my pain and fear
and replace them with joy and pride
you lied.
and I didn’t realize it at first
when it was barely setting in
but you’ve been exposed now.
and as I double over in the bathroom
tears mixing with saliva
as my brain strains to calculate each kilocalorie
sitting in my distended stomach
but, oh!
where are those kilocalories now?
but lying at my feet
fulfilling your promise that I’d never feel
the pain, never face the fears.
but as I lay
curled up in a ball
with my teeth crumbling into my hands
and acid dripping from my nose
I look to you with resentment and
unconditional malice.
long gone are all of the qualities
that once made me unique
gone are my friends,
my motivation,
the baby fat that creased into dimples
with every smile I cracked
gone is my identity;
somehow, you’ve become
all I seem to know.
I hunger for hunger, but I fear it just as badly.
“just one more bite,”
comes your calming voice,
“you won’t even gain an ounce”
but my friend, I believe you forgot
the disclaimer
of losing just about everything else.