Portraits

sixteen

I don't have an eating disorder.

Sure, I've gone days and long hours without eating because I felt disgusting, but my body still gets nutrients.

I don't have any close family or friends, that I know of, that are this way either.

So I can't explain why seeing all these pictures or girls hating their bodies and telling themselves, convincing themselves, to starve, hurt me emotionally. I teared up, and I felt helpless against this monster they face.

I feel angst. These girls are beautiful. I don't even have to see them to know that; they're beautiful. And I had to bite my lip as I scrolled through pictures of their ribs poking through their skin and sunken eyes. I cried out for someone who captured pain in a picture and I couldn't help.

I couldn't do a single thing.

Not because they were miles away, but because the damage was done. No matter how hard I fought, that scar would be there. Taunting them in the corner of my mind. I know, because I do not suffer the way they do and I have those thoughts everyday.

It made me angry.

Specifically angry at the people who made them like this.

If you've ever told or made someone feel like they weren't good enough... I hope one day that you know what it feels like.

These girls, these beautiful, soft-hearted, wonderful girls are living a nightmare.

You did that.