I hate October sixteen. Why did it have to exist?
"Happy Birthday" they say,
as the only thing i'm focusing on is on the strawberry cake.
It used to be my favorite.
660? 456? 360?
My mind became a calculator.
When did food become a number?.
As always I'm overthinking again.
Flashlights from the camera flashing through my eyes,
it remind me those times I passed out,
my vision becomes “white out”.
All eyes at the dining room looking straight at me,
the same way I stare myself in the mirror
hoping for me to eat a piece of my cake.
Why can't they see how nervous I am
Why can't they ask if I'm okay?
As always im overthinking again
I cry but not from joy
I cry from fear
How many did I consume? Would I be able
to burn off those numbers?
As always I'm overthinking, again
I wanna stop crying,
my eyes burn. They were probably tired too.
Finally, after all the crying and exercise
I reached 83. What a best birthday gift,
Now I know I'm happy
but my body says the opposite .
Not all anorexic people wish to deal with food or body dysmorphia; they only want a place of comfort and support. This inspired me to write this poem because I, my best friend and all the people I met on Twitter are dealing with the same issue: food and body dysmorphia. I know how this mental illness messes with your entire life; I don’t have the same life I had 16 years ago. It sucks counting how many calories you consume or having to check the nutrients of every snack you're trying to eat, also how you have to skip meals and exercise every night so you won't gain weight. Many people think anorexic people don't eat at all and hate food but it's not true. There are days I wish I could devour the fridge and all the snacks but I can't because the fear of becoming someone I don't want to turn into is eating me out. I hope every person dealing with any kind of eating disorder gets help professionally fast. It won't be easy, and to this day I’m still getting help, but believe in yourself the way the people who love you believe in you.