'I want protruding hipbones, something I lost long ago. Now I'm the size I'm supposed to be but I want my bones back and the skin to hang, tightly wound around my frame. Suffocating, but still... not small enough. I cannot trace every organ, I cannot feel every bone. My flesh no longer looks like that of a starved decaying animal--completely empty, but longing to be even emptier. I miss the way I used to pound my hollow bones, mangling them against the metal frame. I used to squeeze my ribs so hard, I thought surely they would break. I would look in the mirror and criticize everything I'd see. I wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough. Stupid. Fat. Pathetic. And weak. I miss the way my heart felt when it wouldn't beat. Its unpredictable thumps threatening me, teasing that maybe it would just stop beating. I miss the way the bruises felt, the delicate black and charming blue. I miss the ache and the strict routines; the starvation, the high. The fierce dedication, unparalleled commitment, and that voice in the back of my head. Oh, sweet self destruction. You were my dearest friend. But I stopped breaking. I gave up. My limbs were scarred, my mind was dead, my throat was raw, and my heart just couldn't take it anymore.
I'm so sorry I loved you.'
Kelai_Caberin · Fri May 07, 2010 @ 05:33pm · 1 Comments |