How? How did I end up here?
Neck deep in my sorrows, drowning in empty tears.
Mind battered with lies and deceit.
How did I not notice for so long?
Why did I continue on this path to self destruction?
You. You with the sharp cheek bones and sunken eyes.
You, with the bony fingers pointed at my body and pale lips kept in a tight smirk.
You, caused me pain instead of happiness.
Broke my spirits down to pebbles.
My thoughts and behaviors no longer ensured my safety.
When I was weak, I was weak because of you.
There was no strength hidden in your words,
My bones were achy, constantly twisting, testing how small I could warp my body.
All I wanted was to disappear but you, you made me stand out.
My body was a battlefield.
I tore my skin and poured sadness onto paper.
Journals filled with the dark tales of how I managed to hold myself together,
as I fell apart almost simultaneously.
You pit my anxiety and depression against each other.
Made the world seem too heavy most days.
Filled my lungs with concrete.
Held me under.
You kept my secrets, buried as deep as the earths core.
I sold my mind to the devil, when all I wanted was to find my soul.
And so my soul aches, ebbing and flowing with sadness.
Thoughts flood the dams, my mind no longer a vault.
You sucked breath from my lungs and nourished yourself with my tears.
Liquid calories are okay anyway.
You stole glances in any reflective surface and absentmindedly touched
Finger to thumb, finger to thumb.
wrists dainty and magical.
You were a death trap.
Masking failure and pain with the promises of accomplishment and happiness.
You weakened my body.
No longer a warrior in your eyes.
I was too weak. To fight you. To please you.
A pain I could not silence.
You awaited my courage and then struck with grief.
Reminded me that my self worth compared to that of a tiny speck of dust.
I was already dead on the inside and you smiled.
You followed me into dressing rooms.
Disappointment filled my ears, wisps of hair grew brittle.
Waiting rooms held secrets.
Shaking and crying, screaming and shame.
Subtle glances or pitied looks.
Darkness always loomed overhead.
Outside, sun shone lightly.
Waistband held room against skin.
Too much leeway, too much space.
Not enough space.
A disappearing act, I knew too well.
A prized possession I would never hold.
Thumb and finger, too much room.
But room was good. Room meant growth.
Room meant recovery.