Imperfect Perfectionist

Scrolling through instagram— emitting blue light that

illuminates my fixated face.

Posts producing unrealistic standards

haunt my mind as I

aspire to replicate their portrayed phantom.

The media recommending rigorous diets,

exhausting exercises and putrid pills.

These influences invaded my brain

like a planned ambush.

Constantly counting calories—

constantly working out.

Blue and white amphetamines suppressing my appetite—

feeding into a lethal cycle.

Slowly starving to death as I

count crunches and capsules.

My skin adhering to my bones and

sunken in eyes— begging for help.

Yet the only aid I receive is

compliments for my contorted ego.

Likes and comments admiring my

sickly figure as my mind tries to kill me

and my body— deliberately deteriorates.

Glaring at my reflection—

all I see is the same

fat girl.

Tears streaming down my face—

When will I be good enough?

What pills do I need to swallow?

What routine do I need to follow?

When will the image staring back at me

become beautiful?