nowadays,
i sit at the table and push food around.
it's not interesting.
and my parents are losing patience.
nowadays,
every wednesday,
i attend therapy
the nutritionist
group.
nowadays,
i log my meals in a recovery app, so alex (the dietician) can see them. she comments on what i eat, and she told me to follow tess holliday on instagram.
nowadays,
my friends have stopped worrying.
nowadays,
my hair has stopped falling out.
i miss it.
nowadays,
i hide a scale beneath a box of old sweaters under my bed, and i weigh myself when i'm alone.
nowadays,
the numbers are higher than they've ever been before.
nowadays,
no one believes me when i say i have the flu.
nowadays,
i spend at least an hour of every night at home crying in my bedroom.
nowadays,
trying on my homecoming dress makes me feel sick.
nowadays,
i wish i was still near death.
nowadays,
i wish my biggest worry was my meal plan, i wish i still went to sleep every night in a hospital bed.
nowadays,
i almost break under the pressure of starving, hiding it, and pretending to get better—all at once.
