The Perfectionist

Behind double glass windows,

Followed by an army of eyes... “Why is your blood pressure so low dear?”

They blame my petite frame and scribble that as the cause.

I was not built like this.

I twisted and molded my body-

Desperately trying to soften the clay

to chip away at it

One meal a day,

Purge.

One snack,

Purge.

Endless caffeinated, corrosive, corrupted energy.

More black coffee, please.

At midnight, l gladly eat the whole pizza

I cry Wiping sauce from the corner of my mouth.

Purge fifty times.

Starve for 3 days straight.

I void myself and leave my body in numbing confusion-

It is begging for water, just nerve bound instructions

Truthfully, I am dying.

Not in a panic, but slowly,

The tiptoeing decrescendo conducted by my barely lucid mind.

A tangential death built of dissent and disconnection.

My body would be fortunate to be untangled from me, because

If it could experience the pulse of my thoughts,

My heart would lay crippled.

Death and perfection are tantamount.

I don’t know what to choose.

If you or a loved one is struggling with an eating disorder, visit the National Eating Disorders Association (NEDA) for support and resources