Dying to be Thin

I tried,

So hard,

In the beginning,

To fight her off.

The first time she spoke to me,

I didn’t listen.

The second time she spoke to me,

I didn’t listen.

But,

Eventually,

She wore me down,

Throwing words,

And phrases,

My own mother had said to me,

Around my fragile brain.

Until I my resistance crumbled.

Even then,

I fought,

At least,

I tried to.

On days,

When she wanted nothing to pass my lips,

I just cut out breakfast.

And then lunch.

And dinner too.

On days,

When she focused on my stomach,

And the little bump it caused under my shirt,

I just wore bigger clothing.

Three sizes bigger,

Than what I actually was.

Until,

She convinced me I actually was an XL.

I started to run,

Every day,

20 minutes,

5% incline,

3 miles an hour,

45 minutes,

7% incline,

4 miles an hour.

1 hour,

10% incline,

5 miles an hour.

Nothing worked.

She didn’t shut-up,

She just got louder.

Until I was doing more,

Than just skipping breakfast,

And wearing bigger clothing.

I was skipping entire days,

Until I would faint.

And I was working out,

Sometimes twice a day,

Every single day.

When my vision,

Would turn black,

And my heartbeat,

Would reach 200,

And beyond,

And my lungs would begin collapsing.

That was when I found the websites,

With the mantras and the pictures,

Of girls with ribs showing,

And gaping holes,

In between their nonexistent thighs.

That was when,

It was too much.

Ana took over.

But,

I swear to God,

I tried.

So hard.