So Diseased Poem by Rebecca Paul

You’re so pretty
These words come from aliens’ mouths
They leave her confused and tormented
“If I were pretty, I’d know” she thinks

You’re so lucky
It’s not society’s idea of beauty, it’s her own idea of control
Hipbones, rib cages: feather-light in the front of her mind
“Luck has nothing to do with my goal”

You’re so thin
Jiggling thighs, squishy stomach, blubber covering what God gifted her with
Her eyes try to focus on bones, angles
“All I see is stretch marks and gluttony”

You’re so self-conscious
Her mind implodes upon itself, insults stinging from her own mouth
Her stomach aches for nourishment, and finds only cavernous hollows
“What nourishes me also destroys me”

You’re so diseased
Self-loathing follows every binge, purging herself of her sins after
Every thought revolves around insatiable hunger
“You call it obsession. I call it perfect”