Saturday, October 15, 2011

for the beautiful ones

for Sam Lupin, whose words, words not simply black against the oblivion of white, but words of a thousand shades, the color of flickering heat smoldering on dry logs, the indescribable color of the sea under the glare of the sun, leave me breathless and alive; the one who has always been there, a safe shelter in the midst of the darkest storms. Looking out into the night, a single candle against the emptiness, a star shining brightly, reassuringly; it reminded me of you. I wish I could describe how amazing, how much you mean to me and others, words fail me. Thank you for being you. <3
for Dani, always there with advice and kind words, not only a thinspiration, but an inspiration for being a beautiful person in spirit and body. You give me hope.
for Jackie, who has an incredibly sweet and caring heart, a shoulder to cry on, like an older sister I've always wanted. You're beautiful, never forget it.
for Just Jessica, Little Miss Thin, kes, alice ana, Alex, Olivia Lee, missinsanity, becca;, Marie, Neeska, Cinnamon Brown, Elle Marie, Thin Thighs, Beth, Lucy's Shadow, Ahava, Wings to Set me Free, Bones, thisismeskinny, amelia, lulu, Run, Catherine, Megs, Empty Shell, Jane Pansy, Rain, Tempest, Judith Marie, and all the beautiful ones out there.
I want you to know that you are are absolutely gorgeous, absolutely perfect, just the way you are. Although I've never seen any of you, I know you are beautiful people, because your words touch me, bring a smile to my face, and I can see the radiance of your personalities and love for others.
Thank you. <3

"You look so fragile. I could easily throw you over my shoulders and carry you," he said.

And I am fragile, in mind. As I walk, as I write, as I work, I fall into my own world. I wonder who I am, repeat my name until it seems familiar, until it fits again. I wonder what I am doing, how I got here. Driving down the road, the wheel feels so strange in my hands and the cars aren't real anymore.

People fade to the dull shade of a half-remembered dream. I look past them, through them.  I glance at myself through a tinted distorted glass, disconnected and trying to link the pieces that crumbled. Running my hands over the dark denim covering my legs, paranoid that it's not actually a size 0, feeling the bones waiting to protrude, I am out of place in this body.

I crash back, falling hard onto the concrete of reality. Sometimes being alive, truly alive, is a sharp pain, a reminder of existence, the jagged edges of glass painted with a deep red of blood. Life hurtles itself, a frigid wind that we struggle to run against.

Harder and harder I try to lose my body, more and more of my mind slips away into a haze of thorns and pure nothingness.


  1. It's funny how the small spark of memory can bring so many things flooding back. This post, especially the first line, really took me back a happier place and a time when I was shrinking at great speed.

    "How much do you weigh?" The professor asked me as we sat in a clinic room having our coffee break. I shook my head, not wanting to answer, taking my eyes off the floor for a moment to see the that the smile that was usually plastered across his face, sometimes jovial, sometimes mocking, had disappeared.
    A white hot panic twists its hand around my chest, the heat rising to my face, the tears threatening to reveal themselves by escaping down my cheeks.
    "I bet I can carry you. She's lost a lot of weight, don't you think?" He now turns to his registrar who returns his look but then seems unsure of what to say to me. The silence hurts more than a knife to my heart. A moment that I never thought would come to pass; a man who spends all his energy shielding me from the cruelties of the medical world, man who calls me in the middle of clinic to check I am okay, has nothing to say to me.
    That night the professor finds me again. It's 10pm and we are both still at the hospital. "Don't lose any more weight. I don't hire people who aren't healthy. You are getting too thin." The shock rattles through my body and it shows on my face. The professor softens his expression, "I'm just being a concerned parent." I nod and tidy my desk, it's all I can do to stop the tears.
    It's almost midnight and I'm finally driving home, I'm speeding down the highway with all my windows down, adrenalin and caffeine pumping in my veins, the wind and my heartbeat howling in my ears. All my muscles ache, it feels like my soul is on fire. But I'm happy. It's the first time somebody has told me I look thin.

    Thank you americaneaglelove. For bringing me back to one of my most treasured memories. Your words always remind me of a time when I was a better version of who I am today and everyday I try to go back to that.

  2. for you, whose words have brought the kind of warmth in my heart that only pure happiness can bring, like a child upon when darkness consumes them and just when they're about to give up - a beautiful, wrapped present has been given to them - and inside, there's nothing - it's just a small little box, but that box itself holds beautiful love. love is not tangible, you you've made me believe that love has shades, that poetry has colour, and that beauty has a coat of gray in the midst of its pure white snow.
    i am happy to shelter you, to cradle you whenever you need it, because you were my first inspiration to get back into poetry, the touch of sunflower seeds and lovely prisms reflecting rainbows in all sorts of manners that makes me fly a little on the inside. you make me believe i truly can fly. but i will not. only because i would only fly when you're with me. <3
    if i am the star, then you are the sky. and one day, i believe i will hold the entire sky in my hand and clasp it - but even that would not be enough for you. if i can cry a single tear, it would be of happiness towards giving you a breath of sunshine in those dark hours. and that tear would be born in my eyes, live on my cheek and die on my loved lips.
    if i am the candle, then you are the fire. you light me up with utter desire. <3
    and thank you, for reminding us all that we can still create, as you've created your lovely piece - we want to create our own canvases, our own bodies - so you have never stopped painting. you are painting yourself, filling out shades of brilliant colours and allowing them to dance in desire and lovely speculations. my sweet and sublime constellation.


    He watches me as I step on the treadmill.

    Health's sake. He knows I've been eating out of place, and he's claimed a great amount of time that darling, what the hell are you eating? Visions of tiny, almost non-existent pieces of broccoli and cauliflower floating in heated vegetable soup, binges of red pizza sauce, beans, cheese and pasta somehow mar my vision and cups of tofu and cottage cheese force me to see reality. I snort. He laughs. It's all just a petty little game.

    I run. I walk. I jog. My knees buckle. If just for a moment, I can concentrate on the number, the red flashing numbers and the pain in my knee - faster now, soar, dive, fly - swerve off the road, lovely child. Swerve off the road.

    Then she states. "You've lost weight."

    The smile slightly hurts. The shoulder bag that I hold slightly feels like it weighs a ton more than it really does. The apple tastes like sin. The pain condenses more and more. Then I see an image of a thin, tall silhouette move in some sort of snake-like smoothness.

    "I haven't eaten my yoghurt bar since the day that we dissected the sheep's heart!" lovely girl exclaims.

    "You haven't eaten?" the teacher inquires.

    Though my teacher is a lot like my Father, in a way that it hurts me when she doesn't see the pain etching on my bones, weighing heavily - materialising itself into solidified fat that I wish can disappear, because if they don't exist, the pain won't exist, and I can be pure. I can be so paradoxically painfully pure.

    Somewhere in the forest, I see glass shards of memories. Some are good, some are bad, and I pick up the glass, and cut myself on the inside. Ready to pour out the fat that contains years of bad memories.

    ...please see me. I'm in pain. Yet I say no sound, as the glass of starvation reaches out in the midst of snowy darkness.

    -Sam Lupin <3
    Much love, my sweetheart.

  3. Oh sweetheart, please don't let them get to you. please, please, please.
    the pants really are size zero, and yes, he can really pick you up.

    how much further can you go before this all gets to be too much?

    I don't really even know what to tell you, my beautiful girl.

  4. You ARE beautiful. Your words ring true for a lot of girls on here, including me, your amazing, you have come this far, don't give up. xx

  5. I haven't commented in a while, but I do read, and I'm so honored to be named among the lovely people in this community. I wouldn't wish the suffering on anyone, but the writing that comes of it is so exquisitely beautiful. Don't lose your body, we want you here in it.

  6. i miss commenting, for awhile my account was being weird and i couldn't comment here, i hope this works this time..
    you are absolutely amazing, always keeping your chin up, for us if not for you. you are just as beautiful as the rest of us, in those very real size zero jeans. but i don't mean just physically; in all senses. i'd be a hypocrite if i said 100 lbs was enough, please don't hurt yourself, because i myself am 98 lbs at the moment and completely dissatisfied, but please don't hurt yourself anyway, and i'll try to do the same. never stop posting and supporting love.

  7. I've been away for a while, physically and spiritually, but I'm back and more motivated than ever.
    your posts are always so inspiring!



  8. You truly do write beautifully, more than inspired.

    xo - Pixie.


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