Brisking into the morning sunlight, I'm awaiting the dawn, what it holds. Has to offer for me. This repetitive motion followed by an elongation of self-inflicted torture that lasts for hours at a time continues into my early 20's waiting for that moment of redemption. I am who I am. This is me. Hatred masks over my eyelids as I stare in the mirror, disappointed again, no one to blame but myself. I grab every inch of unwanted mass that sits there on my body, laughing at me straight in the face telling me that I have lost, that there is no winning in this game. I can feel it in my bones, the weakening feeling that engulfs my limbs as I try to raise them up and down. It feels off to move my body parts. I feel dead as if the gravitational pull of the earth is asking for me to burry in its dirt. To consume another recycled soul into the ground awaiting decomposing bodies to turn into its soil once again. They put pretty girls in little boxes, right? This is my personal journey with having an eating disorder. It's written from my raw perspective. WARNING could be triggering.