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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
March 13, 2014
A wrenching true story of the struggle with an eating disorder: shrinking by AlloenDreams.
Featured by neurotype-on-discord
Suggested by MadHat11D6
Literature Text
please, don't tell me how beautiful it is that i've parted my thighs like the sea.
because there is nothing pretty about the tears in last nights dinner, or the way my hands shake around silverware. i am not poetry, but a language lost --in the spaces where flesh used to occupy lies everything i needed to say, kept as the only thing i could ever bear to swallow. if you try to write sonnets about the scars on my knuckles or the arch of my ribs, i will tell you in nine syllables less that this is more than abstinence and foggy reflections. i will tell you how my little sister can carry me in her arms like a child, and how my father can hardly navigate my bedroom floor without touching the brown vomit stains that makes his brow heavy. i will tell you how it feels to hold your own heart in your hands, to feel it break and skip like an old, worn cd. i will tell you how i am nineteen and fishing through musty boxes of clothes from my childhood, only to find that not a single pair of shorts can fit my sadness right.
because anyone who has bent themselves over the toilet bowl for a spine like rosary beads can tell you that counting each notch never managed to calm the rotten waters of their stomach. that at three in the morning, easing their heart back into their chest, they only pray that tomorrow, something stays down. and even if i am alive years from now, there will never be a single soul who will want to sing about how my kisses taste like vomit and diet cherry pepsi or how i never leave the bed sheets warm. because my bones ache for thunderstorms, and when it rains instead of staying inside and watching movies, i stand outside to see if becoming a live wire could make me feel more alive. because i am the worst dinner date, the mouth you never wanted the obligation to force-feed, and a skeleton lying still in your bed instead of your closet. because anyone who tries to hold me only ends up circumnavigating this body and embracing themselves, feeling nothing but a pulse beating blue against their chest.
because when i am smaller, i am so much more than just less.
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Friday 5.30pm, and my face was pressed to the armpit of another man, with the leather strap almost cutting off the blood supply to my hand. The groin of a stranger was touching my back every time the carriage cornered. A girl breathed hot chocolate into my ear. It sounds erotic, now I think about it, but it wasn’t. The only way I can cope with that squeeze of people, the second-hand air of three hundred diseased strangers on the Jubilee Line, is by going into myself. I become utterly absorbed in the music on my ipod. Ray Davies is singing only to me. Sometimes I accidentally mouth the words and attract the disinterested but oppro
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Shrinking Love. Chapter 1: The Beginning
There she sat, right on the couch in her apartment. Boxes of microwavable food surrounded her as she played her favorite video game. There came a knock on the door, which was expected, as she ordered some Chinese food for dinner. Again. When she answered the door, she made sure to hurry the interaction between her and the delivery girl. She hated being around people, despite her crippling loneliness. After getting her food, she went over to her desk to eat, but she soon spotted something on the table. Money? She suddenly realized that she had not given the delivery girl her tip! She grabbed the five dollar bill and rushed to her door to try and see if she was still there. When she opened her door, she was met with a surprising and horrific sight. Some man was laying on the floor, facedown, covered in cuts, bruises, and blood. He didn’t look too hurt, but she was too stunned to tell. She stood there, frozen in fear, only for a second. To her it seemed like hours. She didn’t know
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Why Dont You Get to Bed (SW)
“Look I know it’s a kid's film, but I couldn’t help but cry at the end.” Claimed Alice, pushing open the front door, removing her red jacket in the process. Alice was tall woman, with an athletic build; she had a head of curly, shoulder-length brunette hair and piercing blue eyes. She wore a slim, black turtleneck jumper, a pair of tight dark jeans, and a pair of red converse sneakers. She threw her keys on the nearby table and ushered in her 10-year-old daughter, Sam. “Well, you do cry at everything.” Said Sam, removing her own yellow rain jacket as she walked through the door. Unlike her mother, Sam was short for her age, only standing at 4’3”, and skinny. However, her hair was also a curly brunette spiral that reached just past her shoulder blades, and she shared the same piercing eyes. She wore a black t-shirt and blue jeans, before removing her own pair of matching red converse sneakers, revealing a pair of yellow socks. “Well, when you have a Dragon Force daughter of your
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This is absolutely beautifully written. I have read this 3 times and it gives me goosebumps. Please keep writing because you are amazing at poetry. I related so hard to this.