I would like to thank all of you who submitted your work for me to put on this web site. You are all amazing and I wish you all the best! If you would like to submit any work (art, writings, poetry, etc) I would love to put it up. Just email them to me at Missa4314@hotmail.com
I still have more to put up so check back!
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A hundred pounds to me is, my struggles, starving, hours on end of working out, the lies to the ones i love, betrayal. listening to everything ana tells me, creeping into every thought i have every second of every day. a hundred pounds is giving in, it is my sacrifice, my breaking point. my happiest dream, yet my worst nightmare. the beauty of ribs againt my clothes and hip bones showing for the world to see, finally feeling pretty on the outside. feeling of acceptance. thin enough. so lite. numbers so low. yet inside i am still so hallow, a hundred pounds is still ana winning, it is still ana holding my hand with a even harder grasp guiding me in the wrong direction, with no desire to ever let go. a hundred pounds is enyy, it is perfection and true happiness it is "wow you have lost weight" it is the smallest clothes in every store, its no footprints in the snow. a hundred pounds to me is, cold feet, it is numb hands and hair that falls from your head. it is a body that is eating at itself and a heart that will soon stop beating. a hundred pounds is a family that will soon loose someone they fight so hard to keep, and a funeral waiting to happen. a hundred pounds is a scale and ana tugging at my every limb trying to tear me down as i fight for survival... By: K |
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Here I am, apologetically dressed,
Wearing your brand of beauty.
I lose myself in the Glamour
And I know I am home.
Your love so demanding,
I promise Il do better.
Unfold me, unwrap me.
Look into your eyes to see
the skeleton in my closet emerge.
All the pretty faces,
They walk on water, Glide through air,
Dazzling eyes of disillusion.
I hear you calling, saving,
Bleeding, heaving.
I lose myself in the Glamour,
And I know I am home.
The cold white tiles,
Thay share my secret,
An incomplete satisfaction of sorts.
An icon of self indulgence,
An image of deprivation.
The pain simply
Weakness leaving my body.
Im incomplete, but to fix me?
If it meant losing you my friend...
Id rather die.
Sinead
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Your Life's Destiny is Up to You
Its one day at a time, that’s all you’ve got.
Don’t take any moment for granted.
It may be all you get or all you’ve got left.
Hold the time in your hand like a gift.
Unwrap it slowly and cherish each moment.
Although some days may be hard,
Never hesitate to look to the brighter days ahead.
Make the most of what life gives you.
Learn from the bad times, and cherish the good times.
Always give to others, because you never know when you
Might need that helping hand.
Think of each day as your last.
Would you have fulfilled your purpose God put you on earth to
Do?
Or would you have wasted time with needless things and things
Of society?
Because you see when you die, will you be happy with what you
Did with your life?
Or will you be regretting at how you took so much time for
Granted?
Life is a gift meant to be cherished with all sorts of times you
Have.
What you do with it can only be determined by you…
----------------------------------------------------
Tears stream down my heart
You never see them on the outside
For I hold them on the inside bottled so tight.
A place so hollow and in despair
Only wants out from the misery she bears.
Fighting so hard each day and trying
To win the battle so deep inside her head –
Holding on for one more day is just
Wearing her away.
Just to think she has to face the battle
Yet one more today.
Can she let go of the pain held so tight?
Will she ever see the truth in the mirror and
Love herself for who God made her to be
To find her worth is in Him alone.
That there’s still a purpose left for her to do behind all these tears streaming down
Her heart.
------------------------------------------------------
Battle to Overcome
But the more you keep looking,
The more you are able to see.
All you see then are the more hurts you hold inside.
There’s a battle inside me to find all the answers,
Why my life is so out of control.
And yet, I’ve tried to gain control
Through ways that only caused pain.
You try to move past things
But yet it seems you can’t.
With a society that desires beauty,
You continue to give your all.
Hoping that just for once,
One problem will go away.
And yet the battle continues
For your feelings to be pushed off on,
To the things that almost killed you.
And yet you know, you only want relief
From so much you hold inside.
There’s a battle inside me,
To find all these things.
I pray and I pray, and yet still wonder, why?
I go to the Lord, but then I leave,
For the fear of so much pain I have inside.
So I know all I can do is just fight all I can.
Fight this battle whatever it takes.
For although, I know God’s beside me,
And so many others before me;
I know until I am set free,
Until I learn to overcome.
Overcome my problems and all of society,
Then I know, there will be that battle always inside of me.
The battle inside of me,
To live or die,
Win or lose.
Deep inside this Battle to Overcome…
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This poem is very special to me because my friend wrote it about me and just gave it to me. I have put it on here with permision from her.
-Missa-
Just breathe little girl
Its gonna be okay
I will save you
I will fight for you everyday
She's all alone fighting this war
And she's so scared to breathe
Writhing in her own skin
Silently begging to be loved and seen
Dyed black hair draped loosely behind her
Those eyes fire rounds at the curious
And she grins with anger at her innate irony
Pulling away from the tomorrows
And all their promising pain
Just breathe little girl
Its gonna be okay
I will save you
I will fight for you everyday
Cigarette out the window
Smoke signals on the highway
Chanting out a need for the nameless
Calling out to someone who will never hear
Abused and beaten
Betrayed and forgotten
She's a memory of dreams
Sipping bitter beer on the porch
She's needing something just out of reach
Just breathe little girl
Its gonna be okay
I will save you
-------------------------------------------------------
.
A tear falls down my face...
as I realized I dont belong.
Memories that hurt...
that keep me from going on.
I search for something...
something that I cant explain
Searching for something...
that will wash away my shame.
Trying to erase the past...
is not easy when you have scars that refuse to heal.
Broken souls...love that seems unreachable
this is how I feel...
So in conclusion, to me it is all an illusion.
Rachel Huntington
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"emaciated truths"
her skeletal finger on her porcelein face
outlines her anguished song of grace
summoning the demon in her soul
a merciless pledge of self control
her body hangs on the ledge of death
pushing for one last poignant breath
knowing through her muffled cries
the only part she needs has died
and through her fragile silouhette
she moans through harsh and piercing sweats
but even as her flawed tears flow
ultimate beauty is never bestowed
~Mary
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"the want to be thin"
it all starts too soon
it hits you too fast
the battle begins
of how long i can last
it starts out with innocence
just something i'll try
of course it could never
lead me to die
and that's what i think
as i kneel down real low
i stare at the bowl
and then i explode
flushed away
are my hate and my pain
but just this one time
not ever again
but soon i find
i'm back for more
a few more pounds
is all it's for
a few more pounds
quickly grows
five, ten, fifteen
but it never shows
i peer in the mirror
with black holes for eyes
soon i will be
the perfect size
but soon never comes
as i eat less and less
just a little more
to look my best
i step on the scale
a moment of pain
i breathlessly pray
for loss and not gain
a black spell of passion
a fierce sweep of pride
my dark little secret
i desperately hide
numbers start dropping
and i dissapear
Ana's stern shouts
that ring through both ears
you call that thin?
she muffles my cries
look in the mirror!
the mirror never lies!
i study my reflection
with deep pangs of guilt
i feel my stomach
my stomach once filled
i stare in disgust
as fat covers my bones
soon, however
they'll stand all alone
my life is a measure
of how much goes out and goes in
food in its glory
the deadliest sin
how long will it take?
how long must i last?
when can i find
the dreams of my past?
a surge of power
the drive to succeed
the sweet satisfaction
in how little i need
beneath me i know
that Ana will win
the gruesome battle
to need to be thin
all those tears shed
all the times that i've cried
all the restrictions
i'd never defy
dear God please help me
out of this hole
don't let them force me
to the toilet bowl
don't let them make me
wither away
but it's what i want
so i know that they'll stay
i claw out my insides
with sickened desire
to conform to the needs
to which i aspire
a few more pounds
is all i need
i shrink and i shrink
and my throat starts to bleed
the panic of having
my heart rate too fast
and many more signs
that i might not last
but it's all worth it
for the chance to win
the strongest of forces
the want to be thin
~Mary
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"twisted minds"
some look at us and call us crazy
how little they really know
they pass us by and stare
like we're in some sickly show
don't they see?
it is not us who is at fault
they kill their bodies with fats and grease
but we give our bodies nothing at all
so, you see,
we really are the purest of the pure
nothing but skin and bones,
plus a scale to reassure
so think about which one of us is on top
next time you stop and stare
for we float in the realm of nonexistence
where all we need is air...
(untitled)
do you know what it's like?
where emptiness eats you away?
where a demon burns your soul?
and never lets you breathe?
no, you don't know.
you don't know at all.
your innocence shields you
mine just hides my pain
you think i'm happy?
you think i'll be OK?
is that what you say?
is that supposed to make it all go away?
i am drowning in my imperfections.
don't you see?
no, you don't.
you don't at all.
(untitled)
what if the world could explode?
would angels sing?
would anguish cease?
would happiness die?
would the devil smile?
or would fear swell and crash
and pain would be shattered across the world...
could innocence last?
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"the scale"
controlling the earth,
dictating my worth,
pride or pain,
loss or gain.
suffocating my mind,
a brief stop in time,
fear of a rise,
hoping to die.
control of my life,
drowning in strife,
unable to believe
in me.
abstract perfection,
hateful obsession,
recklessly shoved,
i want to be loved.
so much power lost,
blood of the cross,
unable to breathe,
starving to succeed.
so much value, placed in a number,
dragging me deeper and deeper down under,
i hope it dies, i hope it lies,
i hope i can break these murderous ties.
slow suicide
i desperately hide,
i want to forgive,
i need to live.
i want to see through my eyes,
i'm just the right size,
i'm not a scale, a number, a reflection,
i'm me.
~ by mary
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Laying in the dark on the floor, staring at the door
Quietly waiting to see if anyone will notice
Does anyone care anymore?
I wipe my tears off my cheek, just trying to seek
The truth…the thing I’ve feared for soo long
I’m so weary & alone
Running my fingers over my bones
That stick way too far out, I’m so full of doubt
Desperately in need of something or someone
It’s like a cold shower in the morning
Finally realizing I can’t undo what’s already done
I cover my face with my hands
Screaming, dying, crying, & wishing of someone who understands
I’m so sick of running and suffocating
Will I have to keep waiting?
I roll over to my side and I cry myself to sleep
Quietly waiting to see if anyone will notice.
Its You
Once I didn't care
I didn't know that I should
I ran and ate and sang
like any little girl would
but life has a way
of fucking it all up
and now I care
and I don't think this is good
I'm drowning in my body
fighting my own voice
a voice to strong to beat
this wasn't a choice
And who invited my head here
my head that is no longer mine
why am I suffering
what was my crime?
And I cry tears
I don't even recognize
And I shout out the words
that put the tears in my eyes
but how many calories
are in a single tear
because I just shed thirty-seven
and fuck I am starving here
twelve more pounds to go
to reach perfection, then
I will celebrate with
water celery and Dexatrim
calling on all dieters
what can I do
I've forgotten how a knife works
show me and I'll show you
the glory of two fingers
down a swollen throat
and how to beat the scales
with quarters in your coat
but falling is so easy
until you hit the floor
your wake you locked
in a room with no doors
just you and the numbers
just you and the game
victim of hypocrisy
and victor in the same
say good night
wave at the sky
tomorrow you could wake up
tomorrow you could die
but long live anorexia
bulimia too
because its what you've become
its everything, its you
By; Shadow
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Let Me Out
Blood in the water
and it hides my tears
Carries them past
the black-red
And down a drain of fears
Spinning floors carry me
and I've forgotten how to walk
so I bend and fall
in awkward motion
and I just want to break
A voice finds its way out
through narrow slits
of brilliant red
streaks of all of everything
life in lines to straight
Tomorrow they will itch with satisfaction
Next year scar in rememberance
and always red
grabbing my eyes
saying- shouting
LET ME OUT!
By; Shadow
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HELLISH LIFE
I'm lost in away that I cannot explain, There's so much hurt and too much pain. There's guilt, confusion, depression, and defeat What causes this? - You ask Nothing but the reflection staring back at me, telling me not to eat I don't know why I feel this way, Please GOD, take Ana's horrid voice away There's a tug-of-war going on in my head. I'm afraid if Ana wins; I'll end up dead I try to eat whatever I please, But then cry tears no one sees. My Muscles and bones are no longer weak; Yet Ana's voice is growing louder each week. There is still one question left in my shattered mind... Do I tell Ana to shut up? Or simply turn the volume up?
by: Jeni
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My Angels
There are two angels from above, who showed me the truth through their eyes, Helped me break the funhouse mirror, and stop believing in my distorted lies. Because of them I shut up my demons, because of them I have no more reasons; No more reasons to hide, no more reasons to cry--Only reasons to smile with self pride. Though these two angels may not know, but my life they helped save I can now hold my head high on the new path they helped pave Thank you my two angels you hold a special place in my heart Though I rarely see you; your words and I will never part
by; Jeni
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In the Cover of Darkness
She cries for the things they'll never see
dies for the things they'll never understand
They leave her alone now, and
when she reaches for a hand
they've all turned and walked away
In the cover of darkness
she cries alone at night, and
no one comes to tell her
it's ok, no one comes
to tell her everything will be all right
So she's running alone again
mile after mile, searching
to find herself-- out there on those empty streets
she's disappearing again, yet
they still refuse to see
How much longer is the fight?
How much longer is the journey through
the labyrinth of her mind?
Only the future holds the answers
(if she ever makes it that far)
She's dancing before the mirror again
like the musicbox-ballerina
of her childhood-- spinning, turning
searching for imperfections
in the reflection that she sees
And as always before, as always forever
it's all too much, not enough
just short of the standards
that she believes exist
So she cries a little more and
she dies a little more and
she makes wishes on discarded pennies
in the fountains for
the strength to fly away
So she just keeps running, alone again
mile after mile, searching
to find a way out of this life
Still searching for Hope and
still searching for Peace and
still searching for the one thing
that would make everything all right
She just keeps running
searching to find the girl
she lost so long ago
inside
5/13/04
Wendy Lowery
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Self- Examination
How do you document feelings, you really can't explain?
How do you figure out where you're headed
when nothing stays the same?
You think you've found the reasons, answers for all you keep inside
Only to later realize, those things you believed were only lies
How do you move forward, when you're straddling the canyon of fear?
How do you keep from listening, to all the thoughts you hear?
When is enough, enough, and when do you learn to let it go?
How do you keep on breathing, when you're caught in the undertow?
And when everything pulls you down, though you fight to stay on top
And everything becomes a fight between
what you do and what you do not--
Where do you find protection from the chaos inside your mind?
How do you forgive yourself for all the years of wasted time?
When will you believe the truths that they all say?
When will you let down your guard and ask for help along the way?
How did you make it this far, and how much longer can you survive--
if you never learn the difference between living and a life?
07/19/04
Wendy Lowery
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Seeking something that does not exist
Reflection of an image
One impossible to see
Scratching away the surface
Hoping there is more to me
Looking through the mirror
The bottom of the glass
Watching the deformation
Distortion continues to last
What you see is what you get
If what you see is real
Touching spins into hurting
Struggling with how to feel
Depth of layers no one sees
A shell covered in gold
Deep within a shattered heart
Filled with stories to be told
Breaking through the reflection
Wanting something more
Waiting for the outside
To darken like the core
Time corrupting thoughts
Thoughts corrupting skin
Starting over yesterday
Unsure of how to begin
Flesh is merely an illusion
Eyes that cannot resist
Seeking something different
Something that does not exist
by: Jayme email: jpuryear1981@adelphia.net
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Untitled
I cannot disappear
No longer can I hide
Fearful of moving on
Scared of what’s inside
Beyond this wall of armor
Depth of confusion lies
Abstracting thoughts of life
A happiness that cries
Counting different paths
Numbers don’t make sense
Rigid pieces of this puzzle
Sharpness too intense
Hiding keeps me lost
Standing in one track
Forward seems motionless
I continue looking back
Looking for some answers
Maybe the missing key
Looking for the desire
The pieces belonging to me
Struggling but surviving
My legs are giving in
Bruises from the falling
I fear I cannot win
by: Jayme email: jpuryear1981@adelphia.net
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The Awakening
Days pass. as lingering memories. burn with stinging pain.
and you find yourself caught. between the doors of two worlds.
undecided.
while questions remain.
(but only for answers unsought)
The face may remain. the body may remain.
Alive.
but the eyes tell another story.
the Soul. the Center of Existence.
fades quickly.
if chained. if caged. if forgotten.
And in your self-created prison. you sit. daily growing old.
with the only view of life. you were ever offered.
through the bars. you somehow came to love.
But in an unknown moment. unknown place. it changes. shifts.
as you begin to fear dying the way you've always done.
One day.
the Soul will awaken from. its dark and muted grave.
and will call from a place within.
And you will remember the words. the thoughts.
entangled in silence for years.
will find a way to break. the prison walls.
Whether by the ax of Rumi.
or the enlightenment of Chopin.
you will find a path. or create your own.
step away from the shadows.
dance in the sunlight.
of a life you never before.
have known.
10/23/01
Wendy Lowery
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Bulimia in a nut shell
There is no cure, no acceptance, no understanding, and no answer. Textbooks can only tell you so much, and unless you have lived it, it is near impossible to judge from the outside. It is suffering; self-inflicted; self-hatred bundled up with an enormous amount of emotional energy. That small explanation is just the tip of the iceberg in trying to explain bulimia.
It is tiring trying to show people from the outside you are suffering, almost as tiring as the disorder it self. At times the exhaustion is overwhelming, giving up on life is so much more attracting than giving up on the one thing you know; self-destruction. How can one explain that food is an enemy and a best friend? There is no rationality in the behavior and no rationality in the mind. There are too many questions and not enough answers.
It is a selfish disorder, one filled with lies and deception. It is not the ''cycle'' most read about; instead, it is a consistent downward spiral. The one thing that is killing you is the one thing keeping you alive. It is the only thing you know how to do. You hear of others recovering and think "good for them." It is easier to push friends away then to try and ask for support or understanding. Who can be compassionate for a person that finds pleasure in jamming their fingers down their throat to find some sign of relief?
A binge/purge free week is nothing to someone suffering; it is a failure to what they know so well. If there is no happiness, no goal, no hope or promise for tomorrow; why not pursue the one thing reliable; food? It is a pathetic answer for questions that will never be answered. It is a temporary filling to empty emotions. To look from the outside in is pointless, to pretend one understands is only imaginary. There are not enough Ph.D.’s to qualify someone to say why bulimia exists, or any other eating disorder for that matter. Unless you have walked a mile in those shoes it is damn near pointless to pretend you have a clue.
For a bulimic, there is no patting oneself on the back for accomplishment; instead the mind focuses on "how can I fuck up today". There is a constant digging to try and find what lies beneath the surface, but it is like picking at a scab that will only bleed for a seconds and form a scab again. There are few moments of wanting to heal the wound that was self-created. Often times, the only time one seeks help is for those around them, those that know the ''secret.'' Some days have a glimmer of promise, but it is only a glimmer and often times a mirage of a glimmer.
The whole day revolves around schedules, deceit, planning, and ''good'' and ''bad'' food. Instead of figuring out what class work is due, or whether or not you turned off the coffeepot; life revolves around cookies, bread and butter, ice cream and anything else that will not scratch the hell out of your throat as it makes its returns to the surface. It is a game of sorts, tips and tricks that sound crazy looking from the outside in. Public restrooms that few refuse to defecate are a sanctuary of relief. As long as the evidence can be flushed away, hidden, and all traces of evidence dissipated; then the act itself does not matter.
Eye drops to get rid of the redness, soap to clean traces of vomit on the face and hands, something to tie back your hair, and some lotion to mask the fumes from acidic bile are the simplest of accessories required. Laxatives and diuretics play as safety nets in the mind. Feeling full is a crime; it is shameful disgust that leaves one teetering over the edge. However feeling empty is like feeling nothing; we feed the emptiness and release the guilt. There is power in the purge, something so powerful not even the CEO of the largest corporation would understand. However, beyond this controlling power you realize you have no power and cannot even control the simplest of act; eating.
It is all about "me." Nothing or no one matters. Food replaces friends, as one cannot control who will be there tomorrow; we know food will always be there. The torture we put our body through is merely a reflection of the torture our mind is going through. This is not just a slice of who we are; it is who we have become. It is disgusting and shameful but the most comfortable thing we know. We do not see beauty in anything; we are our own worst enemy. Pain is a pleasure as it is a reminder we are alive despite the heavy emptiness we posses.
Explaining it is almost null and void, as it is just words, simply words trying to explain something that cannot be understood. We cannot speak therefore we use ourselves as an expression of the pain, anger, and never-ending frustration. To each we possess a different past, a different path, a different reason; but we all suffer endlessly. No sympathy is expected; we do this to ourselves. The one true thing we desire, understanding, cannot be gained without true insight to the demon we possess. Instead of living one day at a time, we jump from one binge to the next. We don’t ''live'' we hide within ourselves; within the pain we have created.
Stepping away from the safety net of bulimia is far scarier than most would imagine. It is being in a relationship of abuse; self abuse. We don’t run from death; we wait for it. Cutting off an arm or a leg, jumping from a cliff, venturing into a darkened cave, falling in a pit of wolves; all seem like far safer alternatives to letting go. Too much focus on the selfishness, guilt and stupidity allows us to take focus off of the deeper lying emotions that we ourselves are not willing to explore. We do get a break every now and then, often times when we sleep, restrict, run, cause self-injury, abuse substances; all unhealthy alternatives to an unhealthy ''quality'' we posses.
We are left questioning whether the downward spiraling cycle will ever end, ever be broken. Even so, where do we go from there? Do we possess anything greater, do we deserve to? I do not possess the answers for all; myself, however, is sick of trying to search for answers. It may be slow suicide, ultimately wishing one could possess the power to control fate. Holding off the process slightly to fool others that it is merely a ''food issue,'' something to control weight. We can put on a healthy front and pretend we are okay; it seems far safer than admitting the opposite. It is feeling loss, a loss of hope, a loss of understanding, a loss of empathy, and a loss of oneself.
Bulimia is a huge waste of time and energy, but even that does not stop the reality of it. Distorted images prance around the head screaming how ugly we are. How can we expect love if we cannot even love ourselves? It is a big game of pretend, charades that we have perfected. Some days we want to disappear and others we want to be held like a child with reassurance that things will be ok. There is not a Band-Aid big enough to heal the wound that has been created, only hope that the wound will finish bleeding what life is left or that it will heal leaving a scar of remembrance.
by: Jayme email: jpuryear1981@adelphia.net
