She tells me I'm thin enough,
THIN ENOUGH?!
I think to myself.
What is thin enough?
I am surely not thin enough.
Not skinny enough to be truly loved.
Not skinny enough to love myself.
I am full of hate,
hatred for the mirror.
Hatred for the arrogant, self-centered teenage girl that I stare at in the mirror.
Hatred for my own self.
My mother thinks I am thin enough.
How thin must I be to be happy with myself?
How thin does the world have to see me to finally be accepted and loved?
Why must I obsess over my weight?
Why do I push my fingers down my throat in hopes my horrid lunch will come back out of me?
Why do I starve for the feeling of starvation?
Why do I slit my wrists,
in order to feel pain?
I Feel it.
I Feel it all.
Feelings of pain, starvation and burning throats.
So when she says "You're thin enough"
My mind is thinking "You can be thinner, you can be thinner".
And I know she realizes it too,
that my own mother is slowly watching me kill myself.
