My mask, my protection, my shield.
It hides me from prying eyes.
It clothes me in smiles and laughter.
It tells me what I should and should not do.
“She’s thinner than you, you shouldn't eat that.
“Eating one of those will make you worthless.
“Don’t you want control?
“Purity?
“Asceticism?
“Good job. You didn't give into the weakness.
“I will always be with you to hold you and guide you.”
My mask gives me the excuses.
I already ate.
My stomach hurts. I’m not feeling well.
It keeps me safe. Discourages me from trusting.
Trust no one. People hurt. They lie.
My mask sits at my door-side. I hang it up when I enter my
room.
It is ready to be grabbed if I ever need it.
It tells me to isolate myself in my room,
And to show my true self to no one.
No one but my mask.
It is my friend. My companion. My lover. My affair.
My dictator, my drill sergeant, my God.
Command me master. Tell me what to do.
I will do whatever you ask.
It tells me not to eat.
It tells me to exercise until I want to drop.
Pain is strength. Cold is strength. Fatigue is strength.
Hunger is power.
So says my mask.
Never question the mask.
“Cut yourself. See the blood. Hit yourself and watch the
bruise form.
“Feel the pain. Pain is supremacy.
“No one loves you. No one ever will.
“You are worthless and no one cares.
“Go die. Wallow in your misery. You are pathetic.
“You are weak.”
I cry. The words hurt. The words coming from my mask.
The words in my head.
My power crumbles. My heart shatters. My mind rapes my
spirit.
“Binge. It will make you feel better. Go ahead.
“Eat like the weakling you are.
“You idiot. Get rid of it. Now.”
Food is poison. Food is for the meek. Food is for the ugly.
Be bones. Bones aren't beautiful, but bones are tenacious.
Have a heart of stone. Craft a heart of bone. Let the devil inside.
So says my mask.
“Fucked up piece of shit. You are nothing.
“You will never be anything.”
My mask, my attacker, my enemy.
My torment.
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