Skinny Memories

By the age of 15 I was already dangerously under-weighted and also avoiding 2 or 3 meals every day, working out intensively and still being able to manage a whole world of lies I made with the purpose to hide my own private nightmare from my parents and teachers. I thought that moment, It was lucky the loosen 90 s fashion I wore those days allowed me to succeed on my slim down self-imposed goals. But, after two attempts of commit suicide I chose to confront my problem and welcome myself into the healing process.

It was not easy, the healing process took seven years of my life and several mistakes, wrong choices that did not helped me out. Psychology, for example, was useful to understand the problem but not to work it out. Also, I was not really prepared to the fact that you ended up asking more than one therapist; they make you say the same things over and over, and of course, do not show themselves particularly enthusiastic about your case (you are job, not a life).

I had the same feeling going to church, speaking the priests, it was embarrassing, having to ask someone to listen things that are not supposed to tell to completely strangers persons.

I started to read books and articles by my own, having meditate about spirituality in deep, achieving to understand why it was important to heal. Just the awareness, the sole idea of being my own basement; a soul in search for her inner happiness, made me feel strong, made me want to rescue me from the claws of the fragile role model that many girls attach themselves to become a clone of their "thinspirations".

This is a poem I wrote about this, recalling some skinny memories..

Behind the blindness
the dream never dies,
starving day after day
having no reward
other than vanity for this sadistic behavior
I see Me, my own predator.

We were a union for destruction, I admit
she and I,
two people that destiny put together
friends on one side, enemies on behind
we were partners in life and our efforts were taking us to death
hilarious, delusional our world
feeling like a couple of fairies
fairies forever young and forever perfect
two never-land s children, there, pretentious
weak Cinderella s, feeding ourselves with sights
that and compliments,
she and I
sisters in life, in death

Was I becoming beautiful?

That was my eternal question

Hiding my need to feel loved
and fit for somebody that truly cared
wishing to belong to something
wishing to stop wandering streets
wishing to stop picking problems everywhere

All I did was to roll over
In search of dates and fame
Cared too much about men attention
Neither that made me happy or beautiful
How come a fairy would survive
this magazine world without admirers.

I wanted to become a magnet
the envy for woman
Me, the narcissism, the self-love
the blindness of desperation
Me, the loneliness
Me, the silence
Me, the exquisite pearl of sweetness
diving into the mod
Me, the sophistication
drowning in a trashy world I made me go In

And after all the days and nights feeling
close to die
becoming this fragile and useless
I learned that Men do not make fairies beautiful

I were beautiful all the time but did not knew
I had on me, all I ever needed, all the time.

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