She said she was jealous of me
I said … Don’t be envious
Forgive me, but you know not of what you speak
Sure, on the outside I may
At casual glance
Seem to fit those flimsy labels you covet
But I urge you, look closer past the coterie of assumption
For all the slender thighs and long hair and stamps on passports
All the friends at weekends and praise from strangers
Those things are mostly artifice or first impression
Stay a while
You’ll see physical pain pique herself, a whirling Dervish devouring relentless
Hourly grinding me to dust, Devil of innards, chewing strength to perishment
You’ll witness the way it’s hard to eat out, with my friends who do not grasp
How sick food can make me; even a little wine, a little garlic, a little poison
When you envy my waist-line or say I look young, remember that
Behind closed doors, we writhe and lament, even as we smile for photos
Stay a while and you won’t accuse me of anorexia, or having great legs or hair
You’ll see the fistfuls that come out in the bath, how dead I look throwing up at 3am
That I surround myself with friends because I have no family and family is all I ever wanted to fill the void
But don’t pity me, that’s not my desire, leave that for martyrs
Rather: Stop hating girls like me for their good skin and brave smiles
Pay attention and you’ll see why they can’t afford to give in
How often I have wished, how weary trying has been …
I’m not half of what I could have become and that’s okay, except when it’s not
I didn’t excel as that scientist or attorney, who travels for business in 4 inch heels
Spending weekends in the Hamptons with her three kids and a labradoodle
Or somedays have the energy to take out the trash or clean the vomit from my chin
Depression haunts the edge of many days like quicksand tastes my pulse
I cancel on people, I avoid birthdays, some days the urge to jump reminds me of hunger pains
Hot and molten – a fascination luring me to lights in the forest
When we drown trying to exist and exist despite ourselves
We may look young, free and happy but there’s more
In the shift of our eyes when others fit and we fall apart
If you hate me for being slim and turning heads, I beg you, remember
A turned head is just a turned head
We are still beneath all the layers, bereft, when we are bereft
Don’t be envious of my moments of joy; they are small
Don’t hate that girl from the ivy league university who seems to have it all
She might be like me
She might be like you
If we quit resenting and sticking pins in other girls
Imagine? What we could do?