An untitled poem about relapse. Written/recorded by Daisy aka GTFO thinspo.
EATING DISORDER TW
You are a house of cards.
Jack of hearts, 120 calories of diamonds,
King of spades, 50 calories of clubs.
You have playing cards where your bones should be,
Guilt in the pores of your skin,
Vomit lodged between your teeth,
You are one gust of wind away from toppling.
The history of anorexia is littered with the empty bottles of diet pills,
It is “goal weights” that are never small enough,
Portions of calorie controlled foods that never make you any less hungry,
Migraines, hair loss, hypoglycaemia.
Fatigue, and dizziness so severe it will feel like you are holding onto burning stars.
The history of your eating disorder is a shopping list made of all the foods you denied yourself,
You are a maths textbook full of careful calculations,
homework you spent too long doing.
Your eating disorder is a loaded gun.
It is a war that has no end and two indistinguishable sides.
There is no voice. No Ana, no Mia, no Ed.
The words that tell you to starve sound no different to your own.
You are a Trojan war. The gods wouldn’t dare interfere with this mess, so you must call a ceasefire yourself.
I know that you stay awake all night, scrolling through blog after blog for your thinspiration,
The perfect thigh gap, you want your bones to be hieroglyphs showing through your skin,
you want to be something for someone to decipher.
You are not a house of cards.
You are not a metaphor, you are not a line in a poem,
This is not the history of your eating disorder,
This is the story of your recovery.
It will be a literary flop.
No one will buy the first edition, but it is something you have to write for yourself.
Remember to season your food with apologises.
Your body is forgiving,
It only asks that you treat it like a home,
and not a house of cards.