Wildfires

Your father and I are concerned about you.

Shut up.
You don’t know anything; you just pretend to.
Spare yourself the wasted breath, mother.
Don’t even bother.

I was reading an article online and you’re showing some symptoms.

Oh, you can read now?
You think I’m acting strangely?
Where have you been the past
Eight fucking years?
Are you that dense?
Are you still in denial?

I didn’t notice it before, but you’ve been eating less. . .

I started restricting myself to
800
600
400
200
calories, maximum intake per day.
All those wasted brown bag lunches,
Every meal I hid in my napkin,
The occasional purge when I was at my worst.

. . .people keep telling us that you need help. . .

Of course that’s the issue;
I’m bringing dishonor and shame to the family.
There isn’t a better sob story than a
Daughter with a first class ticket to the asylum.

If you need any help, don’t hesitate to ask.

I don’t need your help.
What are you going to do
Other than ridicule me,
Misconstrue my thoughts,
Dissect my so-called invalid arguments,
Until there is nothing left to say?

I’d rather brush my teeth with Mia’s toothbrush.

I’ll remember that, mom, thanks.

Once you master the art of lying to yourself,
Lying to others is as easy as spelling your name.

Satisfied, mother dearest dismisses me
And fades into the background
Like I expected her to do;
Meanwhile, I’m ready for a mile run.

I’m tired and battling a dizzy spell but
Repeat a mantra in my head to keep myself from blacking out:
You can sleep when you’re dead;
By then, you’ll be thin, you’ll be perfect.
That’s all that matters.