The cold air enters me, and breathes a life into me that is a toxic energy all of its' own. Powering through the coffee laden days of practice, papers, piano, and voice, there has been no room left to eat.
The feeling of climbing the stairs, and the colors escaping my body, and the prayers being let up that it willed me to stay in the moment, to stay awake. To be strong, and grounded. To be a good body, and to keep running, and the pleas and the bets that I would follow my meal plan better or that the next day would be different. Just like always. The slip of a meal, or the accidental underestimate of true portioning. The deep loneliness within that became repressed, and manifested through an icy gaze, and cold bitter lack of intake.
It's terrifying going to every doctor's appointment with the fear of being pulled from school once again. The fear of relapse. The realization that it is too late- or that I am not the strong girl everyone said I was. It is all a mask. Feeling like a failure in my "strength." Trying to fight, and feeling so defeated in my fear. Gazing at a jar of peanut butter and wondering why I cannot be "normal" enough to eat the damn peanut butter, or a whole sandwich.
My mind is a complex machine of fierce words that engage in a self loathing deeper than any wounds received from the most vile and lowly person I could ever hope to never encounter. The jagged words on the gentle dainty soul have tattered it to pieces, and left me empty. If only I had known the dire consequences of my actions. If only I had been able to protect myself before I let myself become this monster.
Some days it feels as if I understand the mechanics behind what drives the monster, and yet she still has the power. I recognize her, yet she still breathes the life that drains mine. I have become two people, and it's the monster inside that could kill me.
I know the little girl is still in there somewhere, and I hope she can be saved... I certainly seem to mess things up enough, but it doesn't mean I am not trying my damndest.
I am thankful for the people who take my control. I know I am a brat, and I know that I am naive, and don't tend to give myself the things I deserve because too often I feel as if I don't. But the people who are holding my hand and helping me remind me otherwise. You see the beauty through the broken. You always make plans to eat with me, and we laugh. You are not afraid to tell me I cannot stay home alone. You do not fear taking me from my studies to go eat, or relinquishing my food picking for something you pick. And that scares the shit out of me. And that is exactly what I need. These people may know exactly who they are, and some may not. These people are warriors themselves with their own struggles and hurts. These people are beautiful souls. They inspire me to look for the hope and good within each day, and look beyond myself to a brighter tomorrow. They remind me that release is okay, and not everything is a straight line. Even though it may be stormy today... it doesn't mean that it's too late for the rainbow, if you look close enough.
The feeling of climbing the stairs, and the colors escaping my body, and the prayers being let up that it willed me to stay in the moment, to stay awake. To be strong, and grounded. To be a good body, and to keep running, and the pleas and the bets that I would follow my meal plan better or that the next day would be different. Just like always. The slip of a meal, or the accidental underestimate of true portioning. The deep loneliness within that became repressed, and manifested through an icy gaze, and cold bitter lack of intake.
It's terrifying going to every doctor's appointment with the fear of being pulled from school once again. The fear of relapse. The realization that it is too late- or that I am not the strong girl everyone said I was. It is all a mask. Feeling like a failure in my "strength." Trying to fight, and feeling so defeated in my fear. Gazing at a jar of peanut butter and wondering why I cannot be "normal" enough to eat the damn peanut butter, or a whole sandwich.
My mind is a complex machine of fierce words that engage in a self loathing deeper than any wounds received from the most vile and lowly person I could ever hope to never encounter. The jagged words on the gentle dainty soul have tattered it to pieces, and left me empty. If only I had known the dire consequences of my actions. If only I had been able to protect myself before I let myself become this monster.
Some days it feels as if I understand the mechanics behind what drives the monster, and yet she still has the power. I recognize her, yet she still breathes the life that drains mine. I have become two people, and it's the monster inside that could kill me.
I know the little girl is still in there somewhere, and I hope she can be saved... I certainly seem to mess things up enough, but it doesn't mean I am not trying my damndest.
I am thankful for the people who take my control. I know I am a brat, and I know that I am naive, and don't tend to give myself the things I deserve because too often I feel as if I don't. But the people who are holding my hand and helping me remind me otherwise. You see the beauty through the broken. You always make plans to eat with me, and we laugh. You are not afraid to tell me I cannot stay home alone. You do not fear taking me from my studies to go eat, or relinquishing my food picking for something you pick. And that scares the shit out of me. And that is exactly what I need. These people may know exactly who they are, and some may not. These people are warriors themselves with their own struggles and hurts. These people are beautiful souls. They inspire me to look for the hope and good within each day, and look beyond myself to a brighter tomorrow. They remind me that release is okay, and not everything is a straight line. Even though it may be stormy today... it doesn't mean that it's too late for the rainbow, if you look close enough.
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