My Plea

To the system,

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to calm down. All I know is that if this doesn’t stop and I can’t get control of the eating again, I will most definitely lose my mind. We will lose it all. 

This is no good. This is not right. Can you not see??

A week is too long. 10 days?! Ha! What is this? Why do I not matter? How is this not important?!!! 

Everything is wrong. Spinning. Loud. Insane. Stop. Put down the spoon. Think! Let me decide. Let me choose. This is not for you. You…are not strong. You are not wise. You will ruin everything. 

Everything. Everything is fragile. In balance. A choreographed dance. Listen to me! I am the dancer. I can walk this thin line. I can hold us up. I will keep us light. 

Lightness. Air. Safety. High…up up up up. Feel the wind, my dears. Float. Fly with me. 

I leave you alone. Do as you will: 

Hide your blades. Smoke your smokes. Have your sex. Read your books. Phone your friend. Color your picture. Sit in that comfy chair and tell all our secrets. Tell all your lies. Yell. Scream. Cry. Laugh. 

I don’t give a fuck about any of that. 

Just let me control the food. Please. Give this back to me before it’s too late. I ask for nothing else. Nothing. 

Allow me this. Give it back. Let me matter.