I look back at the old me:
The thinner me,
The filthy-on-the-inside me,
And I don’t want to be her (do I want to be her?).
I don’t miss the way she was (oh, how I miss the way she looked!).
So I keep running away from her,
Protecting myself from her with food and fat.
I see my picture and ugh, I look like that?!
I can’t bear to see what I’ve become!
Different now? Yes.
Better now? Yes.
All on the inside, all on the inside.
Yet I am unhealthy, inside and out.
Eating my emotions. Sabotaging my health.
Not afraid to die, except for the pain.
Not wanting to die … but is this not a slow form of suicide?
Take another bite. (Not worth the fight.)
Feeling disgusted. Feeling defeated.
How ridiculous this must seem, in a world of pain.
No one to blame but myself.
Why can’t I just get this right?
Why do I care so much (but you ARE beautiful … lies, lies!)?
He thinks I’m beautiful (how? why?).
God beautifully wove me, right?
So tired of the struggle.
So tired of the fight.
Not giving up … but can’t seem to find …