I don't want to be an issue

 Scared to take up space

I don't want to be an issue

don't want to be seen as a problem 

or have needs to attend to.

I don't want to cause a pain

or say the wrong thing

or ask for something that is tricky

or make something out of nothing.

I don't want to be in others heads

take up their time

or in their world

Do you know understand why it feels easier

to simply vanish out of sight?

If I don't have needs

then I'm not a problem

If I am not even here

You won't need to worry about me withering at the bottom.

I don't want to take up space 

I don't feel worth of doing so

I want to not be here

I want to disappear. 

Two sides of the same mind

 Trying to marry two half’s of my mind

One half is angry and the other is tired

One half screams loudly and shouts and is strong

The other urges and pleads me to stop. 

One half is vindictive, brutal and harsh

It twists things and blurs things and makes me feel lost

The other side is weaker, though I know it’s words are truer 

The other side begs me, please fiona, anorexia is trying to kill you. 

Anorexia tells me I’m better now

That this nutrition I don’t need

Anorexia tells me to push people away

To resent them

Lose myself further in the abyss. 

The quiet rational side of me begs me to hear

The doctors that tell me my bloods still hold fear

That to catch an infection right now would be dangerous 

And that bm’s that drop every hour makes them nervous

That I need ECG’s because they fear my heart crashing

That I need to be careful right now, my body is lacking. 

The quiet voice of fiona sings softly throughout the day

Attempting to fragment the anger anorexia displays 

To try to make through the torment and worry

In hope that one day, I will be free from this bully. 

But it’s hard when two sides feel so opposing

When both feel so real

And so imposing. 

What happened?

 What happened to my life?

What happened to Fiona?

6 months ago I was eating donuts

and now I'm fighting over my blood sugar. 

6 months ago I was at university 

and seeing my friends

I was walking my puppy dog and 

going out for lunches

shopping and laughing

going to the beach and playing with mum in the sands.

6 months ago I was cooking with Dad and cuddling my dog 

I was eating biscoff by the jar and

getting lost in the London smog.

I look in the mirror now

at the stranger who stares back

a shell of a person

controlled, tormented

lost in the black. 

The distraction

 Something that people don't realise about anorexia is that

It is so far away from being about food

food is a distraction, a ditherance, an entirely logical and understandable struggle

for someone on the outside

But we know deep within that

the food is merely the band aid

that behind every skipped meal and snack is

a tsunami of insecurities.

People look at a thin girl not eating and wish she'd stop reading magazines

they'd say 'why does she want to look like Kim Kardashian'?

She's only skin deep.

The irony in what you're saying is stark,

the food is only skin deep

It's a defense, a weapon

to hide what is underneath. 

Healing is scary

 How can I admit

That I don’t want to par take in life right now

That the pressure and constraints of everyday

Feel like twisting and turning in my stomach and head

And that I look at other people who laugh and smile

And feel nothing but confused as to how they seem to feel so at ease

Because this world overwhelms me

And I cannot find the balance

I can’t seem to slow down and calm the unrest

And everytime it leads to such distress 

And I want to say that I am tired, tired of trying to fit in

Constantly trying to please and appease. 

How can I admit that sometimes it is easier

To simply withdraw

To give myself over to an illness

That I know wants to steal my soul. 

How can I admit that I want that emptiness

Because it feels calmer than the war

That the numb, quiet, self destruction feels safer

Than this world, than people, and correlating uproar. 

Maybe I'm not well

 I think I'm okay

until I need to move

And I have no strength

until I need to stand up

but gravity holds it's defence.

Until I start choking

with no muscle to cough

Until I can't wash myself

Or dress myself

Or stand for more than a few minutes

Until I pass out again, cold. 

Anorexia's power to deceive me

Is rifer than I ever knew

Maybe I'm not all okay

Maybe I'm not well

Maybe I'm starting to see anorexia through and through.