What I carry

Location

76262
United States
33° 0' 14.2812" N, 97° 13' 32.8404" W

Blackens my soul and decays my image this thought I carry weighs my mind down repeatedly throughout my days. Nothing that has been forced upon me to carry upon my body, yet something I myself drilled inside me and struggle with by choice. I carry it for all the wrong reasons. Having fallen into the repetitive words of others; my brothers referred to me as the “fat sister,” my mother vented about the expensiveness pertaining to the plus size section, feeling as if 120 pounds in 5th grade were my airplane and I was the pentagon. Hours of staring blankly into reflective objects, anything that would display my imperfections; beholding me of the ability I presented myself to scorn every bulge. The idea is an immense weight, overthrowing the region in which my confidence and self-worth belong; as if my mind were to slouch over to one side, because I have been subjected to no longer having the ability to hold my head up high. Mendacities, distortions, as well as animosity bulk within the twisted thought that no matter how my peers may view me, I will always believe that my neck sags, my thighs’ circumference are to be unspoken of, and my waist expands at the rapidity of China’s population rate. These abysmal judgments are what such insanity demands of me. Experiencing horrid pain from laxatives, scorching my throat numerous times from stomach acid in addition to being in control of allowing nothing but air to seep within me are the things I carried, what I viewed as needing to occur, because by doing so at that moment I was able to release myself of the pitiful emotions and rage. At least such is what I thought, for I’d continue to battle the war within me as I have for 3 years. The vision of being carefree and unremorseful of what I intake to my body or having the ability to strut among society, feeling self-worth and passive are how I have repetitively envisioned myself without such load, yet even then so I would not choose to release myself from captivity of the image. Although I have grown saner, standing at 4 months without relapses, it’s never something you can overlook or escape from; the thought, the voice or however you’d prefer to address it as is continuously within you distorting your reflection being a continuous weight in which I myself carry.

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