1) I’m watching you get sick. The emptiness in your dark pupils, twitched irises, pale skin over your fragile body, the things you do that no one sees. The fresh cuts and old scars which you wear as your favorite accessory. The menu for your stomach is just green tea.
2) You’ve made homes out of people mistaking their arms as open doors, syncing your heartbeat with their thumping heart — their eyes for windows and wrapping your waist around as the four walls, your home. Filling their heart with love while they looked at you as an empty museum once filled with love but now empty and rusted. While your heart lays there broken and blistered.
3) Akira Kurosawa once said, “In a mad world, only the mad are sane.” You too my friend do insane things to be sane. Tearing your skin for a proof of flowing blood, the swelling of your throat due to the purge, gnawing nails and taste of bile. Your bones are like chalk, easily broken.
4) Cold skin in a warm room, hair overgrown, using volumizing shampoo to hide those bald spots, throwing half of the food that your mother bought. Loving the feeling of the empty stomach roaring in hunger while the water traces down your throat in hopes it will suppress the hunger. And if it doesn’t work, you can always punch.
5) Tear soaked pillowcases, the melancholy of your soul never ceases. The fear gripping your shoulders every night, satin quilts and an empty bed, starving hands and an empty stomach. Loneliness sweeping you in its arms, singing lullabies of worthlessness. Sunlight radiating your skin every morning while you think when will the day end.
6) Eating disorders are the latest trends. Just like selfies, Snapchat, and sugar-free jellos. The average waist of women is measured half of what is was in the last century, and yet people are surprised when I say we are a lineage of shrinking women, passing eating disorders to the next generation.
7) Don’t be foolish; your savior the Victoria Secret Angels who strut around wearing their tiny waist and hourglass figure. Their pale skin is plastered with bronzer, eating half a bowl of salad, no dressing, and plain tap water for dinner. And concealer covering the scars overshadowing their throat.
8) Your body has become a house of cards hanging carelessly — your knees the cluttering ice caps and your arms the twigs of the dead tree devoid of nutrition. Your heart fabricated of glass, breaking with every breath, but of course you’re an inspiration, a smashing sensation.
9) You never eat until you’re suggested to eat. Your favorite food is the words you gulp, digging your cheek bones down your throat, and hold in your jaws and never speak. You cover your eye bags with foundation and always seem to be in a rush when they tell you to have dinner.
10) Your porcelain skin looks yellow, your nails are of the color blue, your throat seems to swallow bile more than you swallow food. Your throat is ripped apart and you’re lying on a hospital bed. I can count the drops of IV while you’re lying there, half of what you used to be.
11) I’m watching you destroy yourself. I’m watching you die.