Anorexia awareness

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Dear Anorexia Nervosa, that’s right, I’m calling you out. Hear your name, loud and clear. This is my notice letter. I am done with you, I’m tossing you out. Pack your things and leave.
Skipping meals, once again how does this happen, how is this a trend? it isn't trendy to starve oneself yet here I am
Think about it too much? or not enough? Will I ever believe in trust? believe in me, and my own skin? or will I fight, against my kin?
Speak not of my bloodied chest, but pray instead for some forgotten justice !   Fair Lady Wind, your presence is as welcome as the flow of my precious life-blood. I will evermore search of your beauteous 
obsessed.   my dwindling eating habits started in an effort to punish myself, hurt myself. the meals dropped and dropped; three meals a day, two, one. an apple. an orange.
When I was young I used to want to be a singer  But my mother said, Mija that job is not for you  Successful singers are not usually brown, Try something else.  So I wanted to be a baker and open up my own Panadería. 
They sit with stomachs rumbling and talk about how they eat, They sit with smiling faces and cry under their sheets, They sit with silent voices and scream inside their heads, They sit with normal people And wonder how, oh how? They sit and stand,
Everyday girls stand on the scales, and cry. They look in the mirror and cry. They look at themselves, see themselves as fat when they are fading away to skin and bone.  
One Year Back: Ribs sickly sticking through skin, spine running down my back;  Sunken craters haunt my face holding in eyes that don't shine anymore. 
   When I had nothing,        I ate nothing.      I had told myself I lost everything,    so, that's what i had done.        I took my hands and pushed,      pushed away people, food.   
Growing up, my parents encouraged me to act. But looks are important and they said I was fat. They told me if I want to play the lead I’d have to lose weight.
Don't romanticize this and say some boy or girl will pick you up off the floor and hold you in his arms and wipe your tears away and kissing you anyways. This is the gruesome reality of always smelling like puke. It never goes away.
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