What my eating disorder is – to me

To me, right now, it’s evaluating my food – bad food and good food and living with those decisions and thoughts.
To me, it is thinking about that brownie I’ve been wanting to make for months and thinking it’s healthy too, gluten free even, but not making it because I am afraid I’ll binge and proteins are still calories if not worked off.
To me, it is not looking in the mirror while changing clothes, because seeing what I see and hating myself for it, is not a good feeling really.
To me, it is wearing the clothes that hide me and my body – so as not to see what I am and then despising myself for it
To me, it is screaming, in my head, at the people with the bodies I’d like, they don’t know what it’s like in me.
To me, it is sitting in a chicken pose or kneeling in front of my desk – because sitting is bad and then feeling bad for sitting anyway.
To me, it is feeling bad for all those bites of pita bread with humus and big bowl of full fresh, full fat, full cream milk I vowed I would never let it touch.
To me, it is despising myself for hiding under those baggy pants all those days to avoid feeling miserable, when I see myself in those tight fitted jeans I really didn’t want to put on.
To me, it is seeing my bones, and hating them, and never wanting to look at them, to crying about them, because I never wanted it to get to me this way and because I don’t see what I see in them.
To me, it is that voice at the back of my head, which is the key to that Pandora’s box I keep locked, threatening to bury me in bad feelings, engulfing me with bad thoughts.
To me, it is thinking food bad, to refusing rice and taking cookies from friends and then yelling at myself, no it is not an exception.
To me, it is what I think of my body and what I think of what I put in it and my validation.
To me, it is asking, what reason do I have, to eat, this food, I’m probably just thirsty, I should have my tablets, your money is not yours, those fries are deep fried.
To me, it is not seeing myself the way others do, and to turning other peoples comments into standards and defenses.
To me, it is hating myself for it, for all of it, because I know better, because fuck the media, but not being able to let go, ever.
To me, it is feeling bad about my self, even though I know, oh I know, I am not my body.
To me, it is that voice, I’m afraid to let speak because it’s so loud, I’m too scared of it.
To me, it is wanting people to see it, but keeping it looked up under layers of armor because it could break me.
To me, it is, the thoughts, the thoughts, the thoughts, and how they’re always there, every where.
To me, it is thinking about it, in every thing I do, in the simplest things and about the rules and feeling bad.
To me, it is avoidance, till the regret, and to it coming back all again, till I settle back.
To Me, it is being afraid, of my own mind.

–slam poetry maybe?
–being human in this world comes with suck-y stuff don’t it?


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