Worth of a Journal

Anxiety, depression, An undiagnosed disease. Hiding under smiles and laughs So nobody saw me. Twelve years-old and so confused By the media displays. I tried to be just like them By monitoring my weight. Three years gone and past; I found new ways to cope. Staring down the porcelain bowl I thought I'd lost all hope. Finally, it was too much To keep it all inside. Confiding in someone I loved A dear, close friend of mine. My mother cried in sadness thinking, "What could I have done?" But she loved me more than life itself, And the disease it hadn't won. I went to see a therapist, That woman changed my life. She validated all my thoughts And hugged me when I cried. I learned I had bulimia; A dangerous disease. Lucky that I had my life, A small dose of relief. A long path left to walk; I found new ways to cope. Writing down all of my thoughts Made it a shorter road. My journal saved my life, But did not erase the hurt. Someday I'll let my children read it, That alone gives it, its worth.