WARNING: the following deals with a disorder, i do not have this disorder but if it triggers you, i urge you to continue to the next chapter, thank you ->
darkness.
somber clouds.
and a chilled wind.
it's all i think and feel while i'm in this hospital bed,
broken and detached from the world
it's not like i don't believe in my myself or my body, i'm addicted to it
i ask myself, "are you happy with yourself? are you happy with yourself?", and swear that i am
but it's a disease that has infected my body, my mind
i don't see a person when i look at myself, i see destruction and a grotesque being that wants so badly to fit in
now that i believe i'm perfect, others disagree and call me 'scrawny', and too skeletal to be alive
is that why i feel like i can't breathe?
because i'm too beautiful? or beautiful i'm not?
either way, i'm finally happy and i'm at peace
i guess you can call me,
anorexic.
- a.
