Whats so Wrong with the Light ?

The sun shines through my window.
But I shut my blinds.

The light reminds me that i’m choosing to close myself off to it.
I’m hiding in the dark.

It hurts too much to leave .. there is a deep, profound comfort in the dark.

In the dark.
In the dark.

The darkness pushes me to the edge.
Thinking of closing the lights off forever.

I’m so fucking sick of the light.

The light makes me feel weak.
The light reminds me that there is the option of escaping the dark.
But I am too lost and comfortable to walk into the light.


Conversations Inside

Conversations Inside

The mind asks itself: “why do I relapse over and over again”?

A tougher question to answer then one might think ..

A few ideas come to the mind, bouncing from wall to wall.

“When one feels betrayed, unimportant, ignored, sad, degraded, abused.. where do I run? Oh! Where do I escape?!” The unbalanced mind shouts.

“Talk to those around you, those you love and that love you” The heart says softly.

“I know I sound pessimistic but talking usually hurts more than anything else. Most of the time I feel like people don’t really understand” The mind answers sadly.

The mind builds another wall.
The mind and heart take a moment to feel the pain.

“I know a way we can stop feeling this pain” The heart says to the mind, almost playfully.

There is a pause.

The mind wanders through its many thoughts for a moment. Contemplating the idea of getting high, of letting the needle pierce through the skin, into the vein and for a moment, not for long, to feel nothing.

“Thats not the answer my unstable, impulsive friend. We can’t do this, we need to learn how to cope with things and construct a life where we don’t want to get high. Paying to die for a little while will only result in feeling guilty- thus more pain.” The mind says to the heart, trying to sound rational, so that together they could figure a way out of this mess.

The heart weeps.
“Ah fuck it. Stop feeling guilty for trying your very best and slipping.
Stop it! Stop it! It’s making me feel heavy and useless.” The heart begs the mind

“I wish I didn’t feel so alone. We are more than misunderstood. I really do wish people could understand the pain of others and stop giving their opinions, espechially when they have no idea what someone is feeling. It’s easy to come up with solutions when you aren’t living through it. They have been brainwashed, the ones that share this world with us. They believe we are evil because we use drugs. They punish us and people like us by ignoring us, telling us what to do (even though they have never been in our shoes). Meanwhile, they don’t believe they are evil for their own addictions. They drink their wine as they look down on us, sometimes on their fourth cigarette or cup of coffee. Others are spending their money on all sorts of things they don’t need.
They all look down upon us.
I feel so small. But of course they know better, they know how to “fix” me, as they go on chasing whatever they are chasing, not seeing for one second that in the end it is all the same.” The mind says with a sigh.

“Fuck them all.” The heart cries.

“So I am hurt, angry and alone. I want to run, but where? Where is the escape button? I can not even sleep anymore, I want to run out of myself, but no matter what I am stuck knowing I can not out run me. Tell me my dear heart…where do I, do I…run?” The mind says begging the heart for answers.

“I know where we can feel better for a little while” The heart says in response.

“Are we horrible?” The mind asks.

“You think we are the only ones looking to run? We just happen to know the best escape route” The heart responds.

“I am hungry” whines the stomach.

“YOU just SHUT THE FUCK UP. We have summer clothes to fit into, to look better in, do you NOT remember what those shorts looked like on you yesterday ?! DO YOU?!” The mind shouts at the stomach with anger and shame.

The heart sheds a tear.

The stomach hides itself back where it belongs and does not utter another single sound.

The fingers almost in robotic fashion start to scroll down the contact list.

“No!!” The mind shouts.

The fingers drop the phone back on the bed.

The heart sinks.

The fingers pick up the phone again.
“yeah, give me 45 minutes” the man says.

“I need to fix this. This can not be how we spend the rest our life.” The mind says in despair.

“No forget it. we CAN change this, we are going to change everything and find the road to happiness, no matter how long it takes.” The mind screams with pride.

“Stop living in your fantasy world. You and I both know the unforgiving grounds we walk on every single day. We are never making it out of this. Look we just called again. We have been trying for years” The heart says bitterly.

“You are scared. We both know it” said the mind, wiping the tears falling down the hearts sides.

“We are lost, aren’t we?” The heart asks the mind through its’ tears.

“I know baby. Welcome to purgatory. We stand on the line of life and death.” The mind whispers into the hearts vessels.

My Life With Ana

My life with Ana


My mom peaks at how much food is on my plate as I bring my dinner into my room.
She makes sure the portions are acceptable to her standards, under the “rules”.
Will they ever understand? Anyone, ever?
No .. ill always be the freak! The attention seeking freak.
Well fuck it, i’ve always been on the fringe.



“I have eaten enough” I scream



Little does she know the moment she’s asleep – that food winds up in the trash or down the toilet.

Hurting my famz, but I can’t help it.
I worship Ana for life – some chase cash and big fancy cars.
I chase my ultimate weight goal and the double 00’s.



A month ago I was 97 lbs, 12 lbs away from the goal..
But oh! big surprise .. I have failed again.

Oh no .. not me ..



It’s doparexia for me today.
Pay 100$ to shoot the pain away.
It’s a win, win.

Never hungry and none of this horror.
Just me in the abyss, flying, without Ana, without anyone.



Avoiding mirrors, like bloody mary’s about to fucking pop out!

Running past the scales like “don’t need the ugly naked truth today”.
But baby, oh baby, she will always make me look. Make me stare. Make me remember the night after I binged and how much of a pig and failure I am.



The worst part being: Ana is the only one that understands.

She is my homey, my best friend.
Because everyone else rightfully leaves you.
They couldn’t take it, and you don’t blame them.
You know that you’re breaking hearts everyday, but she reminds you that no one gives a shit about your fat ass anyways.



The gym is the dealer, the scale dropping numbers and my clothes being too loose is my high.

I go through withdrawal when my weight goes up.

Usually by then, “recovery” is over.

And it’s back on the sick schedule Ana and I have created together.



How do I cope?

I bond with whats left around me.

Money to buy smack, smack to numb myself from the fact that all I have is Ana.

I would drink myself to death if it weren’t so many calories per bottle.



Forget about jeopardizing my health.

People think I hate myself.

I don’t hate myself at all.

I love myself to the core, to the soul.

I deserve to be the skinniest I can be, for me.

They’re the ones that send out this fucked up message to little girls.



[“Remember ladies, if you’re not thin – no one will be interested.”]



I won’t stop until I am a walking, talking example of societies slow destruction.

For all the people crying, lying, starving, carving or with their heads down the toilet.



I want to be so skinny that I am scary.
I love the feeling of being on a full bus and having no one sit in the empty seat beside me.

They can’t even look at me.



To show the world, to scar them, leave a mark on them.

Make them think twice before they say the phrase

“you don’t LOOK anorexic” or any other hurtful and ignorant statement.



Because I don’t want anyone to have to live through what I and so many others have had too.