i've found its nearly impossible to hurt yourself without anyone noticing - even if you don't show off your size, slipping around and stretching out and thinking about what you can and can't eat. even if you don't parade your bleeding thighs around in the winter, even if you keep every single thought pent up inside, wandering eyes will notice. someone will notice your ribs, red eyes, inability to just 'hang out' in case you'd have to eat. when you turn someone down for the seventeenth time in a row and convince yourself that they aren't wondering why, they know. your family notices your drop in size, slower than you, but faster than others. your sister notices that you wince when she tries to tickle you, god, even your fucking dog notices when you sob and heave and cry on the tile floor. someone will notice your pain and cast you as a danger to yourself - this brings a smirk to your lips, that's all you want, right? its all you ever want; the ability to hurt and hurt and hurt uninterrupted. you'll grow older and leave them behind- grow up a little bit- and it'll feel like watching yourself from the other side of the glass. you'll watch your old self in memories, sitting in a shroud of numbness and fear, a different kind of hurt. you don't want to hurt anymore. you want desperately to claw yourself away from it and you can't and it hurts and hurts and hurts and forms a fire in your chest that explodes every time you breathe and you'll give it the name Anxiety. you'll meet someone that knows how to lower the flame and keeps you safe. you'll never escape the watchful eyes of the world around you - no matter how many people you push away, you're never going to be alone. someone is watching. someone knows.
