A Poem

I can’t breathe. This world is suffocating me.

Trying to recover when my mind wants to relapse. Feeding myself when all I can see in my head is the number on the scale increasing. 

Longing for the body that was once mine. The body that was taken from me.

Why did I do it? Why did I give in?

I had it made. Made to the grave but sometimes that sounds a whole lot nicer than this suffering.

What if it never stops? What if the constant screaming in my mind never ends?

I can’t live with my stomach constantly pressing against the waistband in my stretch pants. With my body in extreme pain when I eat because all the sudden I forgot how to starve. 

I’m blocking the pain but all I feel is pain. 

A pain no one around me knows so here I am alone. Trying to feel something other than the disgust I experience from just being awake. 

If I starve myself I break my heart in the most literal sense but if I recover I’m heartbroken fantasizing about the love I felt from the jeans my tiny body couldn’t fill.