messages from self-doubt

CN: Eating disorders

 

hi. it’s me again, your insecurities,

I know we said we’d part ways,

and be done with our toxic back-and-forth

but I just could not let you go.

 

you’re a perfect subject,

your stomach falls 1000 miles underground

whenever he brushes your thigh –

or your stomach

or your arm

or looks at your face a second too long.

it’s not his fault for craving your touch,

but I cannot let him replace me.

 

remember when it used to be

just you and I? sheltered;

we’d hide beneath layers of shameful

baggy tops,

long tops,

pants a size too big,

your father’s coat,

black everything –

no squeeze, hints of slimming.

 

we’d say hey, if they can’t see us,

we’ll make it through today.

maybe we’ll be quiet this time

maybe we’ll master this game of hide-and-seek

so well

they’ll stop staring,

sneering,

giggling,

judging,

and comments in passing will be just that –

a reflection of the world we exist in,

hints of ugly, diluted by ephemeral perfection.

 

you can’t let me go,

I made you

who you are.

I could teach a crash course

in the science of you,

although we know

you are whatever they make

of you and me.

when you curse the sweet taste of

fullness,

necessity masked as indulgence.

when you name the monsters

who growl into existence in your gut,

growing stronger,

with every “no thanks, I just ate”,

and as you drown them

in litres of achievement,

strict goals,

no cheating.

 

you will never let me go.

I thrive,

as you wither away,

and your soul quickly decays

in a swirl of numbers and bones,

too stubborn

to let you bury our never-ending journey

in your boyfriend’s old t-shirt.

 

By Doris Cozma

 

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Header image by Naud/