I know it hurts. I know it doesn’t feel good.
I know your hunger is different than mine.
I know it doesn’t taste the same as mine.
imagine you could grow up all over again
and pinpoint the millisecond that you started
counting calories like casualties of war,
mourning each one like it had a family.
sometimes I wonder that.
sometimes I wonder if you would go back
and watch yourself reappear and disappear right in front of your own eyes.
and I love you so much.
I am going to hold your little hand through the night.
just please eat. just a little.
you wrote a poem once,
about a city of walking skeletons.
the teacher called home because you
told her you wished it could be like that
let me tell you something about bones, baby.
they are not warm or soft.
the wind whistles through them like they are
holes in a tree.
and they break, too. they break right in half.
they bruise and splinter like wood.
are you hungry?
I know. I know how much you hate that question.
I will find another way to ask it, someday.
I know they are all yelling at you to stretch yourself thinner.
l hear them counting, always counting.
I wish I had been there when the world made you
snap yourself in half.
I would have told you that your body is not a war-zone,
it is okay leave your plate empty.
My 4 year old brother told me he was scared to grow up and cried for like 10 minutes straight
finally I asked why he was so scared
and he said he was scared of drinking coffee
DO YOU KNOW THAT KIND OF WRITER’S BLOCK WHERE YOU ALREADY HAVE A PLOT, YOU KNOW WHAT TO WRITE BUT YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO WRITE IT AND YOU JUST STARE AT THE COMPUTER SCREEN FOR HOURS UNTIL YOU FINALLY CLOSE THE DOCUMENT AND CURSE YOUR ENTIRE EXISTENCE
CAUSE I DO
i have unlimited texting and i only text 3 people ever i think my phone company looks at my bill and just laughs
IF UR READING THIS U LOOK VERY CUTE TODAY AND ALSO ILY