I'm not fine.

Fat thats what I am.

Ugly that's what I think when i look into the mirror, that mirror that just looks deeper into my eyes, that sees the hunger that fills them.

Searching for the food that will stop the never ending disorder.

Help help that's what my mind screams every time I walk past my mom.

My mouth my mouth it ignores my mind and says i’m fine when she ask how I am.

I've always been this size I say when she asks me if i've been losing weight if I am getting smaller.


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