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Full
I don't exactly remember when the ache to feel full and the fear of being cold and empty arose, but I do remember how fast the feelings spread, and they spread so fucking fast.
I remember being in the sixth grade, researching jenny craig slim fast diets like pages ripped out of the bible, and portion control wednesday nights while everyone else was eating dinner.
I don't exactly remember when the hungry girl inside of my chest began to carve her chalk outlined escape plan on the inside of my skin, but I do know how badly she wanted out of the barbed wire rib caged prison cell I kept her inside of,
And how ashamed I was of her and her body alone, how angry I was because even after the small plate of ice cubes and listerine soaked cotton balls, she was still so damn hungry.
I remember cutting out outfits from vogue magazine, and plastering them inside of a journal dedicated to my weight loss journey, even though I was only twelve.
I can still taste the hydrogen peroxide I used to let sit on my tongue so that the rest of my mouth was good and numb, too numb for the hungry girl inside of me to complain.
I don't remember when the ache to feel full and the the fear of being cold and empty arose, but I do remember how fast it spread, and god,
It spread so fucking fast.
And even after it all, The hungry girl inside of my barbed wire rib caged prison cell still cries out sometimes, but no longer in hunger; in fear.
For she has become just like me, inside and out.
She too is afraid of being empty, just like me.
I remember being in the sixth grade, researching jenny craig slim fast diets like pages ripped out of the bible, and portion control wednesday nights while everyone else was eating dinner.
I don't exactly remember when the hungry girl inside of my chest began to carve her chalk outlined escape plan on the inside of my skin, but I do know how badly she wanted out of the barbed wire rib caged prison cell I kept her inside of,
And how ashamed I was of her and her body alone, how angry I was because even after the small plate of ice cubes and listerine soaked cotton balls, she was still so damn hungry.
I remember cutting out outfits from vogue magazine, and plastering them inside of a journal dedicated to my weight loss journey, even though I was only twelve.
I can still taste the hydrogen peroxide I used to let sit on my tongue so that the rest of my mouth was good and numb, too numb for the hungry girl inside of me to complain.
I don't remember when the ache to feel full and the the fear of being cold and empty arose, but I do remember how fast it spread, and god,
It spread so fucking fast.
And even after it all, The hungry girl inside of my barbed wire rib caged prison cell still cries out sometimes, but no longer in hunger; in fear.
For she has become just like me, inside and out.
She too is afraid of being empty, just like me.
Published 15th Sep 2021
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Anonymous
- Edited 16th Oct 2021 11:45pm
16th Sep 2021 6:25pm
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