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FML [Jul. 1st, 2017|11:55 am]

Still struggling with my eating disorder and found myself back here. Will I ever be able to be recovered from this bullshit? It feels like a no right now. Fuck.

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(no subject) [Apr. 6th, 2015|05:52 pm]
I wish my stomach was as empty
 as my heart.
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(no subject) [Jan. 25th, 2013|08:30 pm]
Fragile bones and sticks and stones, 
that’s what little girls are made of. 
Skintight clothes and body woes,
that’s what little girls are made of.
Crater cuts and messing up,
that’s what little girls are made of.
Porcelain thrones and stomach groans,
midnight tears and mirror fears,
water bloats and aching throats,
dizzy spells and shrinking cells,
kitchen raids and binge parades,
trigger warnings and workout mornings,
that’s what little girls are made of.
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Drunken poetry from my darkest place. [Mar. 31st, 2012|10:07 pm]
[Current Mood |drunkdrunk]

Being thin requires discipline.
That which I was not blessed to possess.
Instead I battle stress, obsessed with less.
Maintaining disgust at the unreasonable excess.
I repress those emotions nevertheless...
though I know I can't wear any dress.
It is known that I have thunder thighs,
plus cankles and legs that are oversized.
So I think it wise to revise and disguise,
for as long as I'm fat, thin is my prize.

There are times when I need to tell lies
in order to not let my secrets arise
when others ask if I want some fries.
I have a yearning for perfection
and an absolute fear of rejection.
I'm at an intersection of disconnection,
where the recollection of disaffection
keeps me wrapped up tight in objection.
Staring in the mirror's flawed complexion...
this could be the result of overprotection.
But none of that matters now, it's past...
though the sadness outlasts in contrast.
The image sticks within and I'm aghast.
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(no subject) [Mar. 29th, 2012|02:11 am]
[Current Mood |drunkdrunk]

When I look at my reflection in the mirror,
I see hideousness staring back...
and all I can seem to do is cry and hack
away the tears and pain from the black
that eats through me with powerful attacks;
my mind is thrown and my webbing slacks.

I am a sinner acting like a beginner...
I have lied, cheated, stolen for dinner
reaching so far for the title of winner...
but I can't accept a win until I'm thinner.

There is no balance in a life like this.
You try your best to strive for bliss
but that bliss doesn't exist, it's a twist
making outsiders' perceptions amiss
while you sink further into the abyss...

The two sides of my mind collide--
they fight over foods that are fried,
each with such convincing pride--
I find it hard to pick a side.
And so I'm left to decide
my fate, while avoiding pool-side
gatherings and taking a stride.
The fear of being seen as wide
tears me apart like the great divide.
I've denied and I've tried, without a guide...
but the truth is I'm a bona-fide cast aside,
as mad as Dr. Jekell and Mr. Hyde.
I am most surprised I haven't died
attempting to vanquish the evil hunger inside...
I've sled into the snide underside of the implied.
The only thing I see is mental sickness worldwide.
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(no subject) [Mar. 16th, 2012|11:43 pm]
"Weight loss does not make people happy. Or peaceful. Being thin does not address the emptiness that has no shape or weight or name. Even a wildly successful diet is a colossal failure because inside the new body is the same sinking heart"

The insanity is that I know this and still strive for thinness.
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Countenance of Confidence... [Dec. 20th, 2011|08:52 pm]
[Current Mood |depressedgrieving ]

I've found myself catching me more often lately.
I find myself thinking twice
about the food I allow to suffice
for the days and nights of my life.
Asking myself if I should be putting that in my mouth
and what will happen when it travels inside south?
I know I don't have to eat everything in front of me
but its hard to control the beast living inside of me.
Wanting to scarf down every bit of food I find
without a second thought in my disordered mind
and I'm scared to stop and look to see what I find
when I delve down deeper into the undefined...
Fasting and Feasting.
Bringing and binging.
Swearing and Purging.
Heaving and grieving.
Shaking and breaking.
Faking and taking.
Lying and Crying.
Living, then dying.
I need to fix my crazy wiring.

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Falling apart again [Sep. 26th, 2011|10:01 pm]
[Current Mood |draineddrained]

Broken shelf,
like myself.
Cracked edges.

Many pledges
to make it right.
Hide it out of sight, out of the light.
But she always reappears in the night
despite any protests of might,
she goes on to spite...

"Weakling, stand upright!"
She privately says,
"and don't be so uptight!"
Forceful like Cortez,
she can incite fright,
and she is rarely polite.

But she has the power to ignite,
excite by turning on the green light.
She makes it so you don't see the plight
ahead...too late, you're already dead
because the disease has spread
to the very core of your heavy head.

Negativity, with strength to embed,
destroying every single shred
of hope to be free from this dreaded ED.
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None of them knew. [Aug. 29th, 2011|09:59 pm]
[Current Mood |pessimisticunwell]

The loose ends twisted here and there may very well consist
of the inability to conclude, clamped in life's fist.
Reminding the twister that the problem exists
it cannot be ignored, it's bound to your wrists.

Wherever you run, there it follows--it persists.
Don't misjudge this predator, she makes lists...
noting and reminding what goes out and in
screaming the goals through that thick skin;
trying to penetrate the conscious from within,
planting the message that the best is thin.

Who cares if it's considered a deadly sin?
As long as you don't end up in the loony bin,
they won't flatten you with the BIG rolling pin.
There is no option, you must reach that mini...
the kind of extra small that makes you skinny.
Or else your life will have been for no-thing
no man will put on your hand a shiny ring.

Who are you kidding?
Your life is forbidding.
There is no bidding.
Better stop skidding.

How can anyone let go of this one true friend?
No way to escape, like a scar, she can append
not only to you but to the others in your life too...

The winner is the one who never gets caught,
the one who doesn't become overwrought.
Can't lose control, or show them the soft spot
even if you're stranded in some parking lot,
there is still power inside, never distraught.

Let it come out and soon you will see
there is more to life than what could be
and when you stop to smell the pine tree
the balance will resonate, we guarantee.

So don't stay down, little lost one.
Laying down dead is overdone.
We know you weigh a metric ton,
but get up, and no! No sticky bun...
for you've got to go and outrun
the insults from all that poked fun...

None of them knew the pain had begun.
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This is what oozes out when I cannot hold it all together [Sep. 6th, 2010|11:38 pm]
[Current Mood |fullfat and sickening]

My sadness is a special thing
so much there, I want to sing
to grant the others to understand
why typical life for me is banned.

But how can any subject communicate
and not cause problems to accumulate?

...There is no way for us to be free
unless there's visibly a guarantee
permitting nothing but to agree
with all and every single devotee
that risks falling in a black sea
where none can live devoid a floaty.

And what can help a convalescent float?
Perhaps some support from a nearby boat,
carrying with ease like a musical note.
But this is rarely how one connotes
the meaning of why life sores a throat.

What can be done regarding the sad prey
of life's wild hand stimulating foul play?
You're left starring at a buffet of decay
with sickening remains, souffle or sorbet
rotting the inside like a cliche overstay.
Like fog that rises over San Francisco Bay,
the chills creep from head to toe all day
lonely, staring through a cafeteria tray...

Why do we allow this blackness to use our insides?
Like a disgusting creature that hideously hides
all the pain, sorrow, anger, and life which rides
in us, the monster steps up and throws you aside.
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