Wicked Game.

I stand there, naked and shaking
I look down at this pathetic frame, this wicked body
Water running over every imperfection
Every rise and fall that makes me feel sick to my stomach

I am disgusted.
Horrified.
Ashamed.
Afraid.

I grab at the space between my jutting hips
I squeeze the plump fat on my thighs and arms -
Hating every inch of my body,
Why won't it all disappear?

I am a prisoner of my own corruption
My own downfall
My own obscure insecurities -
And I see myself fading, a little bit more every day

My stubbornness will be the death of me,
And yet, I cannot stop

I've tried,
But trying isn't good enough

How many times must I fall to pieces on the kitchen floor,
Tears streaming down my face,
My head aching, the emptiness taking over my being
The anger pulsing through my veins,
JUST DO IT, I say to myself
Just FUCKING DO IT.
I stand there
Fists in balls at my waist
Teeth clenched
Knees locked -
Then it goes black.
I drop to a puddle on the tile.
Worn out - am I dying?
Not yet, you worthless coward.
You haven't even begun your fight.
Is this all a dream? No. I'm living a nightmare.
Then I open my mouth,
Screaming out - I just can't do it.
Such a mess of a girl.

And it never occurs to me -
STOP
This is absurd, don't you get that?
No one else does this. Some do.
Don't play that game with me. Fine.
You're ill. I know.
Do you care? Yes.
Really? I hate to see you cry.
Is that all you care about? Honestly, yes.
I wish you cared more about yourself. I don't know how.
You're a beautiful girl, do you know that? I've heard that said before.
Do you believe it? No.
What a shame. I know.

Then you start crying; Please don't cry
I won't make it
I'm so weak
I'm too far gone,
And you can't bare to lose me -
That's what you said

But It will be alright
Believe me, I've got this under control -
No you don't.
Maybe I don't, but it will still be OK.
You keep saying that.
I know - but I don't want you to worry.
Too bad. Too late. I worry all the time.
And you won't be OK.

You have no idea
You don't know anything about recovery
You don't know what it is I'm going through -
No fucking clue.

I get defensive to save my addiction,
It's more apart of me that you could ever imagine,
And I don't know how to let her go ...

This is the hardest thing I have ever had to conquer -
Worse then drugs
Worse than the alcohol
Worse than the blood
Worse than the death
Worse than the bruises
Worse than the word with a face;
This trumps them all

I'm so tired,
So lost
So confused
So determined
So blank
So ... Sick.
And I know all of this.
Believe what you want to believe, but I'm telling the truth.

So, do you want to get better? Yes. More than you can imagine.
Then why don't you? It's not that easy.
Then what do you need to do? I don't know ....
Anything I can do to help?

Tell me its OK to indulge,
That I'm beautiful the way I am,
That my body is perfect, even if perfect doesn't exist
Tell me I can beat this,
Sit with me as I cry, as I learn to fill my emptiness once again
When I insist that I just can't do it, tell me we'll do it together
Tell me there is light at the end of the tunnel - help me to see it
Show me that what I see isn't grotesque, that it's lovely, at any number, at any shape
That whats on the outside, isn't half as important as whats on the inside
Teach me that I don't have to hurt myself, that I deserve love and happiness
Make me want to live again
Make me smile and laugh, for REAL.

Show me all of this, then maybe, just maybe I can begin to open up again
I can start my path to recovery
So that I can begin to live.
This, all of this, is what I want.
I'm so tired of this disease, and I need help.
That's the hardest thing for me to admit,
But I want to feel like me again,

So tell me, where do I begin?

-Gray