Just Stop Please

I don’t know how to live anymore To be honest I don't want to I starve myself everyday for an ounce of control The empty stomach is a victory, a small, sad kingdom, where my mind can finally rest from the endless clamor of things I cannot hold, cannot change I watch the world feast, a brilliant, distant party, and I stand here, thin as a shadow in the doorway, knowing that this chosen absence is the only thing that feels entirely mine Is anything really mine anymore Everyone keeps commenting on how small I am The constant notice feels like a spotlight, harsh and unforgiving They think they are offering kindness, a gentle observation, but each word is a new layer of glass around me, a museum piece labeled "Fragile" They don't see the hunger is not for less food, but for less self, to become something negligible, easy to erase To fit into a space so small that worry can't follow me in I nod, I smile, I say thank you for the compliment that isn't one I let the emptiness expand, quiet and cold, the truest form of having something no one else can touch So I starve myself to feel control A meager victory that I claim alone I don’t want help or recognition I want silence in my own inhibition The thin air is easier to breathe It costs nothing to shrink, to disappear My only prayer is subtraction, a slow vanishing act until the mirror reflects only the wall behind me Let the world keep its loud, messy abundance I have built a sanctuary out of absence It is cold, yes, and lonely, but here, finally, I am the border, and no one can cross