what if i stopped eating? 

would i dissipate away in thin air? 

would i finally be worthy of love? 

would my shrinkage make me happier? 

would i be colder? 

all that baby fat, wait i’m not so sure it’s baby fat be gone? 

will i get a whole new wardrobe of my dreams? 

will i finally be handsome?

wouldn’t i become a fat loss inspiration?  

i mean i was huge, to begin with, and now i’m not? 

that’s healthy, right? 

finally, becoming healthy and taking care of myself? 

everyone congratulated me for finally taking care of myself. 

no. 

if you are thin to begin with you go to the hospital. 

but if you are fat and become thin,

then you’re a success story. 

someone who’s just finally taking care of themselves. 

everyone is just so glad to see me taking care of myself. 

but what they don’t know is that ice cubes became my meals.

mint gum was my favorite snack. 

lifesaver zero-sugar mints were my dessert. 

but again they’re so glad to see me taking care of myself! 

i mean i spend so much time in the bathroom,

so one can assume i have a pretty good skincare routine.

but i’m not actually watching myself wash my face in the mirror. 

im watching those numbers lighting up on the scale. 

watching the numbers correlate with how much i eat. 

each day eating less than the day before. 

watching the numbers drop. 

just as i drop each time i faint. 

landing on the cold floor. 

i can start to see my reflection in the tile.

my skeleton-like reflection. 

i don’t recognize myself. 

it’s no longer fun anymore. 

fun like dressing up as a skeleton for Halloween. 

not becoming one all year around. 

it’s not fun anymore. 

but what if i started eating?

would i be happy again?