Freedom can be a beautiful thing
Humans have a certain freedom
To choose
To speak
To walk away
But the mind is a powerful thing
I am not free
I fought trauma
I fought abusive men off my body
I fought the urge to drag razors across my skin
I fought the need to put poison in my body
I fought like hell to survive
And now i am a prisoner of war
My mind
It holds my body hostage
Hysterical neurosis
Conversion disorder
Decline of functionality
Debility
The dr uses words i do not understand
I look down crying
At my legs that will not move
Positioned on pillows
My arms that will not move
Anchors, dead weight
I look at him turning only my nec
An Open Letter To My Fiance' by HecticHarmony, literature
Literature
An Open Letter To My Fiance'
I've always been well practiced
In the art of shrinking,
Deteriorating,
Taking pride in my emptiness,
Defining myself by my negative spaces;
At least i had been,
That is until I met you.
Did you know that mother birds
Chew their food and then throw it up
To feed their young?
It wasn't until I met you that
I placed fingers down my throat and stopped
To ask myself who I was trying to feed.
I still remember the first time we made love,
I was nothing but bones under skin and you commented
That you were afraid of breaking me,
And I realised that those spaces between my ribs
Had not always been so empty.
People always told me that I could neve
Standing on a stage
performing for all to see
a painted smile,
a perfect pose
a longing to be seen.
Pull her strings
She will do anything for you
her master puppeteer
she'll act as she should everyday
so maybe you will want her too.
Strings on her heart
strings on her mind
"do just as I say
or I'll leave you behind"
A perfect doll
for a master manipulator
a disguise she didn't see
tormented thoughts,
a broken heart,
and a longing to be free.
An attempt do dance away
left her crumpled on the ground
he perched her back up on the stage
then she knew that she was bound.
Wondering how to live and dance
without a puppeteer
she made atte
As sick and masochistic as it is,
there is a rush in pushing your body to the limits.
There is a high in knowing
that you are defying nature
to live on this much,
to live on this little,
to be shrinking, disappearing
and to survive it.
I wanted to see how long I could go,
running on fumes.
I wanted to find the bare minimum required to subsist.
Food was a possible miscalculation of calories,
a loss of certainty about your control over chaos,
your control over yourself.
The horrible possibility that you are taking
more than you deserve.
That's where I felt in control,
I felt like I was breaking every biological,
physical chemi
My best friend told me
as well as my dad
that the thing about struggling
with an eating disorder is that
"I've just found another way to hurt myself"
and that's true.
But it was never my intention.
The thing is I personally constructed
my own private hell,
I made my body a prison,
unaware of what I was doing.
It's totally sick and completely irrational
but I find myself thinking often
in the back of my mind,
that if I destroy enough of me
there will only be good parts left.
It took me a long time to realize
that I was destroying the good things,
and digging myself deeper
into the hell I've learned to call home.
I was left
A Little Bit Less of A Person by HecticHarmony, literature
Literature
A Little Bit Less of A Person
I think I've had myself convinced for a long time
that if I could somehow scrape the
marrow from my bones
to be just a little bit lighter,
If I could shrink-
take up just a little less space,
If I could somehow become a
negative amount of a person-
maybe I wouldn't be too heavy a burden
to bare.