If I didn't have a stomach.
Life would be so perfect.
I wouldn't feel worthless.
I wouldn't even write this.
Rotting in my bed like a zombie late at night.
Wishing that my head wasn't screwed on so tight.
Wishing I could just eat without feeling the pain.
Wishing every pound I lose I never see a-gain.
But still I gain, still I weigh. My hands around my thighs.
But I pray every day I'll see my body though your eyes.
I hate the way I look.
I hate the way I feel.
My bones are claustrophobic.
So I'm skipping every meal.
I'm dining on pain.
Wasting away.
Till my ribs show through my shirt.
I say its okay.
But deep in my brain.
I know it fucking hurts.
No. I cant think this way.
I cant let recovery get to me.
I just need to run to my goals.
So that I can finally feel free.
Free to wear whatever I want.
Free to feel alive.
Free to know, if I drop a stone.
Theres a chance that I might die.
Its my body! Its my choice!
Dont tell me what to do!
I can choose whatever I want!
My choice is avoiding food.
Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.
I know I'm trying my hardest.
The number climbs down on the scale.
And I know that I've made progress.
If I didn't have a stomach
And I knew I wouldn't die.
I say I'd eat whatever I want.
But thats a fucking lie.
I'm addicted to the feeling of hunger.
And I'm addicted to this pain.
If I didn't have a stomach.
I'd probably stay the same.
