Anorexia

It’s a battle everyday, from the moment my feet hit the floor. It’s not a habit I’m proud of, but a sickness I can’t ignore. I know I’m my hardest critic, and my worst enemy. You are taking me over piece by piece, and this will be the death of me. I should know it’s not important, just a number on a scale. It’s me versus you now, and I hope someday to prevail. I’m starving my body and also my soul. I see you sickness, you laugh, because you are in control. I cannot face you alone; I know I’m not that strong. You’ve been hiding around corners, waiting to appear all along. You are now taking me over completely, as I knew you would do. Maybe there is hope for me somehow, and then I can control you.