i am 16.
i will be 17 in 47 days and I am still aching for my own validation
starting approximately 775 days ago
the 136.4 that stood below my feet held me by my throat
it was nothing until “you would look prettier if you lost some weight!”
it was nothing until “no one will love you if you are fat.”
so,
one app, 1600 calories, drop
30 minutes, RUN, 300 calories, drop
more, more, MORE!
who am i?
new app, 1200 calories, drop
one hour, RUN, 700 calories, drop
bones that looked like diamonds
complements that felt like the polish
it was only 1 year
but I was gone
who am i?
who could i trust with my secrets?
im stuck to recover alone
silence
delete the app
relapse
i said delete the app
relapse
1200…1600… 2000… 3000
more, more, MORE!
save yourself
who am i?
“what happened?” “you have have yourself go”
i’m trying to find myself again
however, i learned
4000 calories are fine if you can get them out
2 fingers that reached the back of the 1 throat i have
4000 turns to 2000
what am i doing?
who am i?
year 2.
go back
take me to 775 days ago when i did not cry
no cries over my lost control
no cries over what the mirror reflects
no cries over the numbers
the numbers
who am i?
-
Author:
Brooke Andrews (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 17th, 2022 15:24
- Comment from author about the poem: whenever i feel at my lowest, i write. this poem was written nearly 5 months ago when i started to relapse frequently into my eating disorders. i was struggling again last night and decided to read some of the things that i have written. this spoke to me and i felt like i needed to share. if you are struggling, please know that you are not alone. there is always someone out there who wants to help. if you are battling an eating disorder and don’t know where to go, NEDA.com is a great place to start. take care ❤️ p.s. you can always message me. i am here to listen.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments1
they say words, can't break bones
but here
a lifetime's worth of trauma
and guts, abused
by that person's own fingers...
yeah, sure
'words can't hurt', right?!
(such a cruel world
the older, supposedly 'wiser' minds
labelling, younger
more insecure generations
as 'flakes'
or weaklings, because
apparently, 'bullying, is a part of life'
we have to accept
and being belittled, is inevitable
didn't you know
it's all done for you, to make you
'stronger'
for having gone through it..
and yet
for every, Brave and Inspirational
story
like yours, dear Poet
how many
never make it?
get stuck in that whirlpool of demise
to never, again
feel sunshine, or another's eyes
upon them
without feeling
like they're being cooked, alive...
just, such a fck'd up world!)
I laud your bravery
and champion, your message
stay Strong! dear Poet
hope you all, blossom
into a wiser generations
than we, who failed - pathetically
like all those before us
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