Her

*Possible ED Trigger*

My mind drip-drips these poisoned thoughts, feeding, slowly, this pool of murky distortion. It’s second nature now. This ingrained habit of restriction. It’s tormenting to watch this illness, to see how it had become me; I have become it. So entwined like lovers lost and found again. It’s a sick love affair,  flirting with the image of her. I thought I had the upper hand but the ball was in her court all along. She calls the shots, and I let her. How could I have been so blind?
She distorts the image in the mirror to get her way, she feeds me lies as I stop feeding myself. And the less I consume the more peace I am given. It’s a game.
This distortion allows me to crave the feeling of caving in on myself.
What’s too thin? Is there a too thin?
“No,” She speaks for me now, “More.”
Funny how greedy she is for someone who detests the very image of gluttony and indulgence. Her paradoxical nature does not escape me. I am not blind to the destruction. I am simply powerless. I am addicted.

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