I sit so often at the kitchen table
hungry but not eating.
Trying to concentrate on anything besides my hunger.

I think if I am able to write
enough about my experiences
with deprivation
self-deprivation
I will try to publish a book.

Then maybe something will come out of all this.

Then maybe another girl
or boy
will read it
and identify
and maybe it will help.

Writing helps me
and reading others' contributions.

We will see.


Hunger is a familiar comforting thing.

I have grown to love it

It is a part of me.

I deal with not eating

By not eating.

I am doing better than a few months ago.

But that's about it.


If I were to be sitting here

Full

Fleshy

I don't know what I would do.

I can't think about it too much

Without a knife

A tinge

A thrill

of Horror.

So that's why

That will perhaps

Never happen.

But I hope someday it will.

I will sit

Doing nothing

Except being happy

With myself.

I will have flesh

I will be soft

And finally

Happy.

My mind

will be quiet.





I can no longer write right now.

Because the thought of that

Makes me emotional.

Someday it will happen.


Until then

I continue

To hold on

To what comforts me.


Now I think I will leave this page.

For now.

And apply

for a job

funnily enough

in a restaurant.

I hope I get it.

It will be early.


And there will be food.