• “There is nothing wrong with you,” says a voice deep inside.
    “Yes, there is something wrong with me,” she tells the voice deep inside.
    “Well then, why didn’t you say something?”
    “I don’t want to sound like I’m seeking attention.”

    Doctors are supposed to be professionals.
    Nurses are supposed to be professionals.
    No one has grasped what is wrong.
    She’s not saying anything.

    “Do you not want to admit it,” asks the voice.
    She closes her eyes and shakes her head sadly.
    “What is this? Is it thrilling? Does it turn you on?”
    “Please, stop saying stuff like that,” she tells the voice.

    “I have all the power,” claims the voice.
    “No, you don’t.”
    “You’ve just given me all the power.”
    “What makes you say that?”

    “I want you to look like those models,” says the voice in her head.
    “I do too, but I hate being sleepy.”
    “You need to go workout even when you’re sleepy.”
    “If I do that, will I be able to admit I have a problem?”

    “Your problem isn’t serious enough,” taunts the voice.
    “I think it’s serious no matter how it looks,” she replies.
    “You can’t talk, but I can.”
    “Do I eat or not,” she wonders.

    “What do you want to eat,” asks the voice.
    “I don’t know,” she answers.
    “Tell me exactly what you want.”
    “I’m not good enough, am I?”
    “You’re not sick enough.”

    “When will anyone notice,” she asks the voice.
    “Never,” taunts the voice.
    “Right. Unless I’m so underweight that it’s noticeable.”
    “That’s right. Like when you were in high school,” tempts the voice.

    “I can’t go back to the way I was,” she tells the voice.
    No matter how she tries to fight it,
    She just can’t win.
    It sucks her right back in once more.

    Her chest hurts.
    Her heart pounds.
    She’s out of breath.
    Sweat drenches her skin and her clothes cling to her.

    “I still have this belly,” she tells the voice.
    “Get rid of it,” says the voice.
    “It’s not that easy. It takes time and patience.”
    “You don’t have time or patience.”
    “I can learn to have that.”
    “You know you can’t,” says the voice.

    “What if I make myself sick,” she asks the voice.
    “That’s a good idea,” the voice tempts back.
    “It’s tempting, but I’d rather not.”
    “Who cares what you think?”
    “I care.”
    “No. You just care about what other people think.”
    “True.”

    She fights back with every she’s got.
    Her emotions are all over the place.
    She feels disconnected from the world.
    It’s her own inner demons she’s battling against.

    Sometimes her heart isn’t in it.
    Sometimes she gives in.
    There are times when she overthrows her tempting ideals.
    Maybe she’s stressed.
    Maybe she’s depressed.
    None of it sounds cool either way.
    It is what it is.
    Maybe she needs to get some help.
    Maybe she just needs some encouragement from others.

    “I hate you, you know that,” she tells the voice.
    “Well, the feeling is mutual,” replies the voice.
    “I want to shatter you.”
    “I want to destroy you from the inside out.”

    “You’re making me have an eating disorder,” she tells the voice.
    “Honey, you don’t have an eating disorder yet.”
    “It’s getting there.”
    “You don’t deserve to have an eating disorder.”