anorexia

I circle my room with a quick paced rhythm listening out for staff with pure fear of being caught.

The smell of sweat lingers on my skin, my clothes, my ego as my feet start to tingle with the pain of rubbing blisters

I gently comb my hands through my ever-thinning hair to feel pretty but I know I will never be good enough.

The taste of fresh minty toothpaste hoards my mouth as if to say ‘I know what you’ve done’.

Anas voice soothes me telling me not to stop walking ‘nothing will ever taste as good as skinny feels!’