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Stop trying to force-feed me:
I don't want to eat.
Don't tell me I'm skinny
when I'm not.
Don't tell me I'm unhealthy.
This is my body,
not yours,
and it's doing just fine.
Do you know what it's like?
To look in the mirror
and feel disgust?
Look at you, you fat bitch.
No one will ever want you.
You'll never be thin enough.
Put on a baggy shirt to hide your huge gut, you whore.
Do you know what it's like?
To step on the scale?
Hoping,
praying,
wishing
that you dropped those two pounds?
Eighty pounds?
Is that really the best you can do?
Your thighs are repulsive.
How did you get so fat?
Lose. More. Weight.
Do you wake up each morning
hoping your stomach shrank a little more?
So the pain won't be as bad?
That tempting void,
begging for food.
What do you think of
when you reach for an apple?
Don't do it, you food slut.
You'll gain back all that weight you lost.
You'll be even bigger.
Everyone already thinks you're a fucking whale.
Stop looking at me with pity in your eyes.
Stop pretending to be my friend.
Stop telling me I'm pretty.
I know I'm fat.
Why else would I be doing this?