Perfection
I want to be a dancer
But my dad says that dancers are skinny.
I want to be an actress
But my mother tells me
That the camera adds fifteen pounds.
I do not need fifteen pounds to be added
But one hundred pounds taken away.
My body is a temple
But the walls have grown too big.
My mouth is a sinkhole
Swallowing everything in sight,
A look in the mirror ends that.
Disgust is all I can see
When I look in the judgmental mirror.
The voice in my head tells me
That I do not need food.
She tells me that I will soon be perfect
All I need to do is listen to her advice:
Only drink diet coke
Cancer over calories
Food will never taste as good as skinny feels.
Cigarettes are your best friend
Your lungs may be black
But at least you are a size zero.
Your outside should be prettier
Than your inside anyways.
It has been seven days since I last ate
I can taste the perfection
Or maybe I am just tasting my teeth rotting in my mouth.
I ate last night and threw up this morning
Perfection does not eat
Perfection does not eat.
Perfection works out eight times a week
Eight times a day
Eight times an hour
Until your body gives out from exhaustion.
Perfection sleeps with laxatives by the bed
Perfection eats a gulp of air for breakfast and lunch
Perfection smokes a cigarette for dinner
Perfection drinks a diet coke for dessert.
I ended up in the hospital
Too thin
Too brittle of bones
Passed out one too many times
Ribs protruding the skin that covers them…
The doctor says that I am anorexic
I ask him if I am perfect yet.
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