Peek inside and hear my hurt..

Others: I love you.

Voices: You think they actually care about you? THINK AGAIN! They hate you! They will never love you because you simply cannot be loved! You are a waste of space and everyone is glad that they aren't you!

Others: You're so pretty.

Voices: They're lying! You are the ugliest thing to ever walk this Earth! You are gross! They're only telling you this so that you don't feel as ugly as you truly are!

Others: I will NEVER leave you.

Voices: You know how that works out, sweet heart! Everyone that has meant something to you has left you. EVERYONE. These people will do the same! Might as well be lonely forever.

Others: Please don't kill yourself, I'll miss you.

Voices: ~laughter~ You think they're being honest with you? Watch, you'll kill yourself and a week after your death EVERYONE will have gone back to their normal lives. Nobody cares about you! Nobody ever will! They're all lying to you! 

"You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
 Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your places
in the family of things." — 'Wild Geese' by Mary Oliver

"I treat myself like I would my daughter. I brush her hair, wash her laundry, tuck her in goodnight. Most importantly, I feed her. I do not punish her. I do not berate her, leave tears staining her face. I do not leave her alone. I know she deserves more.
I know I deserve more." — Michelle K., I Know I Deserve More.

"eat, baby.
eat.
chew.
please.
I know it hurts. I know it doesn’t feel good.
please.
I know your hunger is different than mine.
I know it doesn’t taste the same as mine.
imagine you could grow up all over again
and pinpoint the millisecond that you started
counting calories like casualties of war,
mourning each one like it had a family.
would you?
sometimes I wonder that.
sometimes I wonder if you would go back
and watch yourself reappear and disappear right in front of your own eyes.
and I love you so much.
I am going to hold your little hand through the night.
just please eat. just a little.
you wrote a poem once,
about a city of walking skeletons.
the teacher called home because you
told her you wished it could be like that
here.
let me tell you something about bones, baby.
they are not warm or soft.
the wind whistles through them like they are
holes in a tree.
and they break, too. they break right in half.
they bruise and splinter like wood.
are you hungry?
I know. I know how much you hate that question.
I will find another way to ask it, someday.
please.
the voices.
I know they are all yelling at you to stretch yourself thinner.
l hear them counting, always counting.
I wish I had been there when the world made you
snap yourself in half.
I would have told you that your body is not a war-zone,
that, sometimes,
it is okay leave your plate empty." -Empty plate | Caitlyn Siehl