Poetry From The Heart

Trying

I'm trying.
I am, but it's so hard.
For years I'd gone without this horrible guilt.
Not eating was nothing but a numbing buzz.
But now I feel shame, hate, disgust - and I'm not sure if it's my own or the emotions of others I've run across.
Crying every night was not a habit for me, I was fine.
I was smiling and laughing, not shaky, not weak, not in pain.
But now, the more I try to go back in time, the more I try to regain my health, the shakier I am, the weaker my body becomes and the more my stomach demands to be fed.
I can see it on their faces, they're worrying.
When I sit at that table in the midst of the madness and my friends all go silent, watching me hesitantly take that first bite of the food I secretly hate.
They watch my face contort into that of disgust, chewing the food and gagging, before swallowing it all along with a horrible lump in my throat - the tears threatening to surface.
They smile and go back to their conversation, while I sit there on the verge of tears and the feeling of vomiting all too close to the surface.
I'm trying - the words fly so freely, so easily from my mouth but I fear I don't believe them.
Sure, I'm eating more than I used to but attempting something needs to include your mind agreeing with the idea.
My mind has yet to agree, it still wants to shove the food away and keep my weight declining.
I'm trying.
It's true, I know it is, but it feels I am on this journey alone.
Not a single person is able to help me, no person is able to relate to the thing I dread.
I hate it.
I hate how alone I feel when I'm trying.
I'm trying to change.

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I don't know if this actually classifies as a poem (not that many of my poems actually classify as a poem anyway) but it's more of a rant.
It's something I needed to say. I know, I said that I'd try, and I am. But I'm struggling, and it's becoming so clear to others.. it's hard, guys.
I just decided to write this poem to get all of that off my chest somehow.

Thanks for reading.

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Rosa Vazquez.