It All Goes to *Waist

At first I was always afraid.
I would start to feel the equivalent of smacking into a wall,
there was always a small realization,
like a whisper saying you don’t need to do this.

This time, there was no such feeling;
I felt completely emotionless, I felt perfect for a standstill flicker.
I finally accepted myself, no matter what or who I was.

It was after that moment, that split second that the thought took;
I truly didn't believe in myself.
I had broken down, and looked to my insults for comfort.
I almost wanted to feel sorry for myself, but why?
If it is true, why be so sad about the truth?

Any sudden flash of emotion could make my eyes water.
I'm fat, I'm ugly, I have a huge nose, and my teeth aren't quite white; whatever it was –
It’s so easy to sink and believe every little cliche insult someone has spit your way.
It was all in this one moment, where I fully accepted it;
The idea of who these people thought I was.

As I'm starting to realize what I'm doing;
I let myself sink so low,
stomach acid was nothing in comparison to the frustration and hatred I felt.
Every time became the last time,
I let it push me to this point; we were wrong about it all –
I didn't think I'd feel it all.

I didn't even notice anything wrong,
it wasn't until I looked at myself in the mirror;
deep dark bags under my eyes, cracked red lips - I didn't really feel that great now that I look back.
It never phased me before, the damage I'm inflicting on the inside is seeping through.
My body is crying out, and letting go.
All the while, they're shrugging their shoulders –
They don't know, the last time food actually passed my lips was much longer than a day.

I let myself sink so low,
enough that stomach acid was nothing in comparison to the frustration and hatred I felt.
The more I come to terms of what I've been doing to myself,
I have become dependent on that tingling, burning feeling.