“In the midst of desolation I found something strange. I found motivation.

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That Girl

So it seems I’ve become that girl. I’m not sure when it happened but there is no doubt that I’m her. You know the one
Who yearns for his arms after a long day,
Who watches keeps up with all the playoff games,
Who “can’t go out tonight because it’s date night”,
I’ve become her and surprisingly, I love her because despite my fears she is still me. Despite society’s horror stories, I  maintained my identity. I am that girl but
I still take myself to the movies once a month and laugh without a care with the empty seats around me.
I still spend 4 hours conditioning my hair and pampering my skin every Saturday.
I still fall asleep to Friends almost every night…
And I still I meet my friends for lunch once a week.
I’m am that girl, but I’m still that girl.

With Her Right Hand

This poem is dedicated to a friend- Darla. The multiple instances that I missed her cry for help… writing about it is all I can do to stay sane. If you ever see this my dear, I love you. Together we can beat Ana!

With her right hand, she threw her full plate into the trash can.
Prom was in a week and she still had 13 pounds to go.
Mind over body, she fit into that size 0 dress.

With her right hand, she reached for the apple,
A fairly small one and fewer than 100 calories.
She continued to watch what she ate, always.

With her right hand, she grabbed a toothbrush
Hacked and hurled- she had dinner with us tonight
But now, she had to get it all out of her.

With her right hand, she tightened her waist-trainer.
It made breathing a little difficult, but just a little.
In the end, she caught his attention –that is all that mattered.

With her right hand, she rejected my phone call.
She had no excuse this time, she just would not make it to my dinner.
The sight of food was not pleasant; she could no longer bear it.

With her right hand, she almost destroyed herself.
Now she grows stronger in my arms,
Surrounded by love, Ana did not conquer.

With her right hand, she wipes her tears, grooms and heals herself.

My Dearest,

Flip the pages, read me carefully –as you would the memoir of your idols.

The darkest tone you’ll find on pages 11 through 14

But wipe those tears, fight through the content and

the mysteries on page 22 won’t frustrate you so.

 

Scrutinize the diction of pages 18 to 21.

Jane Eyre should come to mind;

Strong and fragile, naïve yet sophisticated.

Read between the lines and within the lines,

Close your eyes and see my story unfold…

 

Experience my story as it unfold before your eyes.

Paragraphs from various pages coming together so eloquently

To form this very chapter we co-write, you and I.

Allow me to develop –purposely –around you.

Cherish the unanswered question,

Many chapters are still to come.