cant teach an old dog new tricks

 my legs are thicker.

there's no noticeable gap there anymore.

my cheeks don't sink in

you can't wrap your fingers around my arms

or see my rib cage pushing out through my skin.

i don't look as though i could wither away at any moment anymore.

so does that mean i'm okay now?

i look okay.

so that means i'm okay. 

healthy?

so now you'll pretend as if none of it happened.

you don't care if i ate.

you don't care if im happy.

or ask why i'm angry

or upset.

you don't wonder why my clothes are baggy

or notice my lack of interest

motivation

creativity.

you see a visibly healthy girl

with a plastered on smile

who seems to be content with everything around her.

so go ahead.

talk the way you did before.

i'm sure it can't cause anymore damage.

"i need to eat healthy"

"that's too many calories"

"are you sure you'll fit in that?"

"i need to workout so i can wear my swimsuit."

"i didn't eat anything all day"

"i don't want any bread. it's too heavy."

and so on and so forth.

little comments that we worked so hard on to get you to stop saying.

yet now that my bones aren't so visible,

those comments seem to be okay?

i wish my brain showed the same visual decay as my body once did.

so you could see the effect that things have. 

but no it's okay. 

i've told you one too many times about what you shouldn't say around me.

which you used to try to listen

try to understand

but now all i get is

"you take things too personally"

followed by a roll of the eyes and a shove out the door. 

so unfortunately i'll just have to accept it.

i can talk about in in therapy as much as i want

i can scream into my pillow

or scribble into my notebook until a hole rips through the pages

but i can't say anything to you.

in one ear, out the other.

so i'll slap a smile on my face and pretend it's okay.

because i have to.

though all i want is that care again.

as much as i hated being so ill.

so fragile and weak.

you cared about me.

everyone did.

i was given the attention i so desperately needed.

the affection i craved.

because i LOOKED like i needed it. 

so now i lay in bed wondering how to live the rest of my life like this. 

trying to give myself the care and self compassion i can't seem to find anywhere else.

i'll cry to myself

and my journal warped with tears.

just so much fucking emotion that i have to find a way to deal with.

just like i have to deal with the comments you make

unaware about how they can cause another spiral.

i often wonder what will cause the next big break.

and even if it's you to blame,

i won't.

because you can't teach an old dog new tricks. 

-o