The flaxen haired girl.

 

_{(Source: Illustrationage.com)}

The flaxen haired girl,

She sits at a table alone. 

A looming figure stands and watches

from a short distance. 

She is in a room full of other girls,

They laugh at times,

Smile at times,

But mostly,

They are quietly focused on the food. 

The radio plays some upbeat music

And occasionally the girls laugh and sing along. 

The flaxen haired girl just observes. 

And then she begins the painful activity of eating. 

She begins to arrange her food 

in odd patterns on her plastic white plate. 

She takes tiny bites, 

And pauses in between. 

The looming figure tells her to 

stop with the patterns...and the pausing. 

I'm seated at a table in this room,

Observing the flaxen haired girl 

as I drink my chocolate ensure with a spoon. 

I feel emotion overwhelm me,

And tears threaten to fall down my face. 

I see the deep sadness in her eyes,

it is the vacuous look of anorexia. 

She is one of the haunted ones.

The emptiness covers up her sadness

for a time,

But she's so young,

I don't want her to suffer as long as I have. 

I don't want her to be 34,

And still holding the cold, 

clammy hands of anorexia. 

After her meal,

She must sit at the nurse's desk. 

She has been warned.

To gain weight,

One must eat,

But just as vital,

One must not purge. 

She is seventeen. 

She's been haunted for a long time now.

Anorexia has little tricks 

to sabotage her progress.   

Anorexia pretends that she cares,

But she is lying and deceitful,

And steals all peace. 

She pretends to be a friend,

And may be she has been. 

Anorexia was there when she felt so alone. . 

Anorexia has been a source of comfort,

But also a source of so much pain. 

We go for a walk in a small group 

after post meal supervision. 

The flaxen haired girl walks slowly beside me.

She tells me that she is probably going to miss her family trip at the end of July. 

She hasn't been gaining weight,

She's found a way to trick the system. 

Her plane ticket is already booked. 

She smiles as she tells me this,

But those green eyes betray her. 

I feel lost for words,

I need to reach her,

But I feel like such a hypocrite. 

I'm twice her age,

And I am still fighting this disease. 

This awful disease. 

I tell her to be strong,

To stop fighting the program.

To eat what is prescribed,

To gain weight,

No matter how painful it feels. 

I tell her to use the trip as motivation. 

That it won't be so bad..

And then we both laugh,

Because fighting anorexia is so fucking hard. 

If you're reading this,

dear flaxen haired girl,

Please give yourself permission to let go of 

The cold hand of anorexia. 

Anorexia is not as strong as you think she is. 

Perhaps she really needs you more than you need her.

She is scared to leave your side. 

Because deep down,

Anorexia knows that she is all alone,

if you choose life,

instead of this false friendship. 

You are much stronger

than this cruel disease,

I know this because living with anorexia

is a living hell,

and you've survived that. 

You deserve better. 

You deserve so much better.

You deserve to go on family trips,

And truly enjoy them without anorexia 

tagging along. 

She will kick and scream as you defy her. 

She will be persistent, 

and use any tactic she can find. 

But eventually her voice will only be a whisper in the wind. 

Know that when I wish on a dandelion,

I wish for you to be free too.