Toothpick Wrists and Gay Thoughts

I was born 6 lbs. 9 oz. with blond hair and blue eyes. I was also born gay I am anorexic. And you would think people would ridicule me for this instead of me being gay. Surely they would see how unhealthy it was and see that in comparison liking girls was no big deal. No, they applauded me complementing my toothpick wrists and porcelain bones peeking through my too thin skin. How could I not fall in love with my illness? Every calorie I counted and every pound I dropped made me feel prettier. Every meal I skipped, every sip I didn't take, got me closer to perfect. Every day that I felt fainter was a day that I could celebrate being thin, And forget that I was gay. Halfway through my freshman year I had come out, and recovered but By that same summer I relapsed. Riddled with anxiety and pain, I sought after an old friend who brought me comfort even in my own bruised skin, anorexia. Everyday I felt dizzier, was a day my mind could register the gay thoughts. Instead of spending time with my friends, I spent hours googling how many calories are in a stick of gum and how many calories you burn chewing that gum for an hour. It burns 11 calories while the gum is only 10. -1 I became so obsessed with that negative number, because something in my mind had changed. Being gay stayed in the back of my mind And as the number on the scale took its place in my focus Anything I gained soon became guilty cries Anything I lost became a celebratory glass of water. And I got lost in the victory, because who doesn't like to win? In between my nonexistent meals I watched anorexia documentaries like church sermons. Not deterred by how unhealthy they were, but entranced by how their bodies were so sharp and how they seemed so frail. middle school was rough, I was suicidal and on my way to being under weight In 8th grade things looked up But I never forgot how alone I felt Now I feel that feeling in my stomach Stomach acid accompanied by small morsels of low calorie foods. A lot of times anorexia has a nasty side effect of depression. In Most cases one causes the other You feel depressed and not good enough so you starve yourself to feel better Then comes the brief happiness of accomplishment Then tumbling fall of "What have I done to myself?" So now I ask you, would you spend your days counting your calories just to see your bones? Would you starve yourself to forget you were gay? Would you lose yourself to be perfect?