Rum, whiskey and everything sour.

It wasn't too long after, 

when my tongue touched the ice.

When the liquor burnt my throat,

thats when i caught your eye.

I can't promise that i will always be there,

Or that you'll even want me around.

I don't think i can be who you want me to be,

without turning my world inside out.

Its a pressure i cannot handle,

a risk i dare not take.

Life is better off alone for a while,

no disappointments, decisions i would rather not make.

I wont ever upset you,

you wont even care.

It would be nice to hold your hand,

only once in the cold air.

I imagine what it would be like,

to have your arm around my waist.

I couldn't think of anything worse,

than never having been embraced.

I couldn't think of anything worse,

than having you fall behind.

Its a shame that after a few drinks,

that the truth will never be kind.

I apologise in advance,

if i say things that make you believe.

I am sorry if i misread my feelings,

say things which are naive. 

I cannot hide,

what i do not know is there.

But after a glass or two,

i can't help but feel bare.

I may seem like someone,

who you think you know.

But like in the desert,

its somewhere that will never see snow.

There will be a day, 

when i meet someone.

A day will come,

when i will no longer hide from the sun.

Hopefully, 

we will meet again.

That will be the day, 

when the ink runs from my pen.

I will be ready,

there will be no wall.

On top of a mountain,

i won't care if i fall.

Until then,

these chains will hold me down.

Buried under water,

i can't help but drown.

I wish i could stay forever,

a night with you.

Where the hours are long,

too good to be true.

I wish i could commit,

to being someone who i'd rather be.

Maybe if i closed my eyes,

clearer, i would see.

Maybe if i forgave,

what the years had done.

Forget the empty promises,

the days where i all i wanted to do was run.

But the damage is burnt,

embroidered in my skin. 

Scars trace my body,

reminding me of a battle i did not win.

I cannot love, 

even if i tried.

I would end up saying things i didn't mean,

if i said i love you it would of meant i lied.

I will dance, 

and kiss here and there.

But my feelings, 

are something i do not wear.

They lied to me once,

why should i trust them again?

So when you tell me that this time will be different,

I can't help but question when.

I will laugh, 

and kiss you on the cheek.

But my heart will be empty,

a lust too weak.

A smile reflected in your eyes,

i'll turn away.

i said i couldn't promise you,

that i'd be here to stay.

Forgive me later,

regret me now.

I'm sorry i'm the reason,

for your furrowed brow.

For when the days go dark,

and the sun will rise.

Ill be gone just after dawn,

before you even meet my eyes.  

Collarbones

I wanted people to see me for what i was becoming, not for who i was.

I loved the idea that i was physically pleasing and it satisfied my desire to fit in.

I fell in love with the control i had, how easy it was, 
and that power blurred my vision of reality.

I don't know whether this is the right thing to talk about.

It terrifies people and it entices others.

Its something that everyone has heard of, some have experienced and 

others have considered.

Its medically known,

it is labelled and cured... sometimes.

Bulimia. 

Anorexia.

Two commonly thrown around words.

A girl can't be skinny without being seen as a possible anorexia or bulimic.

A girl who is seen to be overweight is told that maybe 

anorexia or bulimia maybe a better option..

This is not okay.

I was 15. 

I loved my family, my friends and i thought i loved myself too.

I was at a school where there were a lot of skinny girls.

Naturally skinny.

They were beautiful and every day i wanted to become as beautiful as they were.

I was jealous. 

The 'box gap' became an iconic image or characteristic in a girl.

If you didn't have one, you weren't as 'hot' as the other girls.

It tore me apart.

There were other things going on in my life at the time.

Family issues which i will not dive into.

However, they may or may not have played a role in this.

I will never know.

I thought what i was doing was acceptable.

I wanted to enjoy the pleasure of eating bad foods.

Mcdonalds, chocolate, lollies... the lot.

What i didn't want, was the weight that came with it.

I wanted a six pack, box gap, skinny arms.

I wanted my bones to show and my skin to be thin.

I wanted people to see me as beautiful.

What i didn't know was that with every time i leaned over that toilet boil,

i was becoming less and less beautiful.

It seemed easy. 

Too easy.

No body notices for a while.

One day you go to a party or go to school and your shirt is loose,

or your jeans are baggy and all of a sudden, 

people recognise.

"Wow!",

"you've lost so much weight"

"You look good, what are you doing"?

Its rewarding for a while.

People acknowledge you for looking good and having a nice figure.

Three weeks later, the comments change from being rewarding,

to being concerned.

"Are you okay"?

"What have you eaten today"?

"You look really tiny, its not normal"

"Your way too thin"

"Are you sick"?

I was too far in.

I enjoyed the comments.

The sudden attention from the way i looked.

People who never spoke to me, started to stare.

People who didn't know me, started to talk to me...

or about me.

I wasn't too concerned with what i was doing.

After every meal i would throw up.

Simple as that.

People throw up all the time.

What harm could it do?

It started off being after bad foods.

Then it became after normal meals- healthy meals even.

Then it became after liquids and drinks.

It started off as something small, 

then it became something that controlled my life.

It became a habit, 

and if i didn't do it,

i would beat myself up for it.

I needed this.

I needed to be skinny.

I needed the control.

No one could take that away from me.

It was late at night. 

A couple of hours after dinner.

My family was going to bed and i went to have a shower.

It was always the time i would do it.

The water running and music playing in the bathroom.

No one would hear me reaching down my throat.

Chunks of food would stray in the drain.

It would take 5 minutes and it would be all out.

This time i wouldn't get away with it.

I forgot to lock the door. 

Mum came in to say goodnight.

It was the first time she realised.

It hurt.

Seeing her, see me.

Thin and fragile, crouched down in the shower.

Head bent over the drain with food in it.

It wasn't a look of disappointment or anger.

It wasn't a look of concern or disgust.

She looked at me with fear.

With love.

It was the first moment she had seen me fully exposed.

She didn't try to tell me it was bad, or tell me off,

 or try to say that what i was doing was wrong.

She loved me.

She told me she accepted what i was doing and that she

would do everything in her power to make this okay again.

She told me she would be there for me.

Help me.

Lead me back to who i used to be.

I got out of the shower and stood in front of the mirror.

Who was i?

I did't look like her daughter anymore.

What seemed like a couple of days of throwing up,

was actually a couple of months.

I didn't realise that i had lost so much weight.

I got caught up in changing the way i looked,

 that i forgot to actually see what i looked like.

I weighed 47 kilos.

My hair was breaking.

My throat hurt.

 I couldn't participate in activities because they were too tiresome.

I had lost the control to maintain who i was.

I became someone who bulimia wanted me to be.

I denied that it was bulimia.

I knew what it was, but i didn't

believe that i had the mental disorder.

I was a perfectly healthy teenager.

Well, i thought i was.

I saw counsellors.

I was sent to doctors.

They all told me the same thing.

"You are underweight".

"If you don't stop now, you will end up in hospital".

"You are killing yourself".

"You are ill".

"We are monitoring you".

The scales were judgemental.

Every time i stood on them, they would tell me who i was becoming in 

measurements of kilos and grams.

I was becoming a number,

not a human being.

I was losing myself to a statistic.

The doctors were never impressed when my weight decreased.

They weren't worried or concerned.

I was just another girl who wanted to be skinny.

Thing is,

I no longer wanted to be thin.

I didn't want to look good in a bikini.

I just became addicted to people caring about me.

I loved that people feared what was happening to me.

I loved that they paid attention now.

It seems horrible and disgusting.

But i don't know if that was me or the bulimia talking.

I'm okay now.

I struggle with my weight like every other 18 year old girl.

I go on juice cleanses and diets and

try to exercise regularly.

But i also know that i don't want to be that person anymore.

I eat healthily, 

but i also allow myself to indulge in the finer things.

I have freedom of my power,

and i know now, not to let it control me.

What's not okay is that,

it will always be there.

I can never really say that i don't have it.

Once you have an eating disorder, 

it stays with you forever.

Whether you act upon it,

is an entirely different thing.

I have to watch myself.

That i don't get carried away with over eating or

under eating.

I have to be careful that i don't cross that line again,

now that i know its there.

I love who i am now,

and i hate that i succumbed to an eating disorder 

and let the physical appearance of myself, 

adhere my judgements of what was right and wrong.

I am completely open and honest about what i went through.

I believe that a lot of people should know what its like.

What really happens to someone when they become anorexia or bulimic.

Sure,

its self inflicted and that we only have ourselves to blame.

But when we have it, 

we aren't ourselves.

We become the eating disorder,

and we lose sight of who we are.

We become addicted to the control, 

and we lose track of the power we gain.

We become greedy and fall in too deep.

We fall so far into the disorder that we can no longer reach for help.

That why i am so grateful.

That I have a supportive family.

I have loving friends.

That i have a safety net, that i didn't know existed.

I am so thankful, that my parents were there.

That they accepted me,

taught me from the beginning, 

what was right and wrong.

That my sister, held my hand.

She looked at me the same and she 

loved every single bit left of me.

That when i was at my lowest point in life,

that i was able to stand up and walk again.

Its the truth.

These things happen.

And we can't prevent them from happening.

We just have to accept that this is life.

These things happen and we have to learn 

to overcome them.

That they can be overcome.

That even the most fortunate people,

can suffer from things such as eating disorders.

That people who are happy, 

may be the saddest.

That people who you don't even know,

struggle just as much as you do.

I apologise that this blog is long.

But i have thought long and hard about what i have wanted to say on this issue.

I am not afraid nor concerned about what people think when they read this.

I just hope that people take this seriously.

I hope that people consider the effects of an eating disorder. 

That its not something to throw around lightly, 

and its not to be seen as an attention seeking issue.

That people who suffer from these disorders,

are still people.

That we are every bit the same as who we were,

that we should be loved just as much as the person next to us.

That we will be okay,

just as long as we are shown that we are okay.

That tomorrow is a new day,

and with support and love,

that tomorrow will be the end of today.

Again,

if you would like to contact me on the matter,

please feel free to message me.

My details are on my contact page..

Thank you for reading bloggers.

For you

A thousand goodbyes,

and a thousand more hellos.

You come and go, 

but you will always be here at home.

This is for you.

I know you get fragile,

and i know you get sad.

When its time to go,

we all go a little bit mad. 

Maybe its fact that this is normal for us

or the ache in our heart.

With all the days that you are gone,

We have never have grown apart.

A world in between us,

35,000 feet in the air.

You seem to be gone for days at end,

but a life without you entirely i cannot compare.

We miss you,

that is true.

But as the days go by,

the sky will always be blue.

A hero in my eyes,

a little girl's father.

You bring the utmost joy,

there is nothing else i would rather.

I know you get down,

and worry that you are not here.

But here are my words of love to you,

for when you are far,  you are so near.

I know this is hard,

the years that have gone by.

But the life you have given us,

is a gift i could never deny.

You make me so proud,

which i don't often say.

But i love you more than anything,

and it grows more every day.

This is for you,

a man who is of blood and bones.

But who is worth so much more,

and has more strength than sticks and stones.

I love you,

thats all you need to know.

So that the days that you are gone, 

you are really, still at home. 

The silent murderer

"He enjoyed a cigarette, a few too many.

The way he held it in his hand, made him feel in control.

A glass of whiskey or a bottle of red,

A couple of years on, the affects would soon take their toll".

I loved him,

and all his flaws.

He wasn't old, 

but he wasn't necessarily young either.

Unique at most,

with few talents that mattered.

One included blowing smoke into useless rings,

the other was counting how many glasses he could have before he drove.

Destined for disaster,

or just dared to live on the edge.

Public warnings and personal appointments,

didn't give off any signs.

He didn't care what they said,

or when told him he could die.

It always begins small,

one cigarette here and there.

A glass before bed,

then a bottle in the morning.

Before you know it,

what you thought was harmless before,

becomes deadly in seconds.

He wasn't one for hard drugs,

but enjoyed strong liquor.

He wasn't into quality,

more was addicted to quantity.

There was something about him,

which made him eager for more.

"Just one more glass" he'd say,

then it would change to,

"make that bottle.. or more".

Addiction is sneaky,

doesn't appear at first.

You can't see it when you look for it,

but it'll find you when you least want it.

When you think it's time,

that you're ready for change.

When you're trying to be better,

it'll tell you that you can't be,

 unless you keep going.

Next week,

next month,

then a year will pass by.

If you don't want it in your life,

you better not start.

I'll give up tomorrow,

but even you thats a lie.

For when you begin,

 it crawls behind,

and you'll never be apart.

He was loved, 

all of him and all of his flaws.

The way he held his cigarette,

and let it burn to his fingertips.

When he drank from that glass,

and let it drip on his shirt.

When he danced with death,

and a challenge he dared.

He wasn't afraid of what his addictions would bring,

it didn't scare him enough to give up.

Lack of care,

but belief in 'it wouldn't happen to him'.

He let a lot of days pass,

thats when addiction creeped in.

It's usually too late,

when you want to say no.

The end has come,

when you feel its time to let go.

Addiction is deadly,

but its a killer at large.

One invited into our doors,

and welcomed with a smile.

Addiction is silent,

and kills with ease.

A murderer on its own,

killing slowly as we watch.

Addiction we cannot know,

when it will happen to us.

All i know is,

we greet addiction and let it lay beside us.

We feed it,

and nurture it, 

as it eats us alive.

Addiction is usually our best friend,

our companion we rely on.

Independently it survives,

dying slowly,

inside all of us.