TOO Far

Fading away was the worst, the downward 

spiral. It was a fun game when I went 

down a few sizes. It was exciting 

when someone would compliment me.

It was beautiful when my pants got looser 

and my shirts needed to be smaller.

When I was hungry less and

less. Yes, that 

was beautiful, something I still crave.

But when my chest began to hurt, and when 

I woke up one day, and my feet were numb. It made me worry,

not enough though. It is just a side effect, the price 

I must pay. When my hands turned purple

and cracked and bled, I guess it wasn’t 

that fun. I guess the price got steeper.

I guess I took it too far when my hair fell out 

in clumps, the brush ripping through the soft strands,

tearing them from my sore head. It was fun while it lasted 

but now I can’t stop it. I can’t eat, I can’t. I can’t.

I can’t. Fading away was the scariest part

when it got too bad to hide. 

When instead of complimenting me, they asked 

if I was okay 

if I was sick.

They no longer told me I looked 

good, they didn’t gasp in jealousy. No, they gasped 

in horror with worry written all over their faces. 

No, now they told me I looked like a

corpse. My cheeks were too shallow, my stomach 

too concave. I didn’t know 

if I would wake up in the morning

and neither did my mother.

I took it a little too far but now I can’t stop.