Skeleton at the Dinner Table

It tires me when I look in the mirror and see someone who is not beautiful. Maybe I was, once. No longer.

My bones stick out in all of the wrong places. My skin is much too pale. My veins portrude from my hands when I type.

It tires me because I forced myself to change.

I was larger, once. Heathly. But I decided I wasn't. I decided I was too big. I wanted to be small.

So

I

Became

Smaller

Than

I've

Ever

Been.

It tires me because I used to be healthy. Now, I get away with eating as little as possible.

My head aches. My vision blurs. Foggy mind.

I am tired of being the skeleton at the dinner table.