isn't this your dream?

tw: a quick poem about eating disorders and the pain of self-destruction

i saw her again today,

with her bright eyes and thin frame.

i heard her voice again today,

taunting me, as if it were a game

and all in the middle of a busy cafe.

i tell her to keep it down,

but nothing i do will shut her up.

no promises, no pleading,

despite the diet books i've been reading,

"i'm sorry," i say with a frown,

and take a sip of poison from her cup.

and with that sip of poison,

300 calories become too much to bear.

and with that sip of poison,

i see the skinny people stare

at my lack of collarbones,

a defined jaw and pretty hair;

looking around once more,

i'm not surprised to see her there.

alone.

she's smiling again.

she knows what she's doing

and she knows it's killing me

but somehow "please go away"

didn't send a message clear enough to see.

i see her everywhere.

in the cafe, and in the dark

during the day and in the park

in the eyes of pencil-thin girls

and size zeros and pretty curls

and in the mirror and in the morning--

she's too happy with herself to care.

day two of no eating,

and she argues with my stomach

as i plunge right off the summit

into self-loathing and despair.

i start to wonder why i feel ill

and i ask her if it's working

and she says to me "it will."

but my hollow body tells me otherwise, 

as it screams for me to stop.

i'm shaking on the bathroom floor,

frightened to my very core,

and i wonder if i'll die

but when i look at her she smiles

and says "the number's dropped."

for just a brief moment i wonder what she means.

"it'll be worth it in the end," she says

"isn't this your dream?"

i beg for her to go away,

i beg, i plead, i scream,

"it'll all be better once you're dead,

isn't this your dream?"

i feel like i'm going to vomit

and the room is spinning now.

the weight on the scale looks way too much

like the skeleton in the closet,

and she tells me i've broken our vow.

sick, crying, coming apart at the seams

and i'm still not good enough

i'm still not good enough

"skinny, like the models," she says

"isn't that your dream?"