bodyhate

There’s a crack in the mirror, That if I stand in just the right spot

At just the right angle

My stomach disappears,

And I almost look like 

A person who I might like.

And so I get up every morning, 

And I suck in my cheeks, 

I raise my head enough to barely see my double chin, 

I turn sideways and exhale, 

And for a moment I feel almost okay. 

For a moment I don’t feel like I want to crawl out of my skin, 

I don’t have to cover myself in blankets and pillows so that I can’t feel my stomach, 

I can’t taste the bile creeping up my throat, 

Begging to be released. 

For a moment I’m almost good enough. 

Then the moment’s gone.

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