Poem: A Start.

She couldn’t decide if it was ironic

or sad.

Waking up and feeling

as if a ton of bricks

was pushing her eyes further

and further

into the sockets.

She had vodka for dinner

and TUMS for breakfast

but she filled her plate

to make everyone else feel okay.

They didn’t know that she hid laxatives in her second drawer.

Because somehow waking up in the middle of the night

from a stomach ache that just doesn’t stop

made her feel better

than looking in the mirror.

And they won’t know

that for every smile and kind word

she said to a stranger

her heart was breaking

because the only reason

boys said “hi”

was to get her naked

and she obliged

because the 10 minutes

of human contact

made her feel

less alone,

sometimes.

And so she had vodka for dinner

and TUMS for breakfast.

Her days were filled with

girls that liked her

but then forgot about her

when they had better offers

because being 5’5

and a hundred and fifty pounds

isn’t good enough

for an Instagram feed.

No,

being 5’5

and a hundred and fifty pounds

is only good enough

to make them feel

good enough

to make them feel

better

about themselves.

She had broken parking meters

for friends,

the kind where you put the coins in

and they come right back out

but you keep trying

because maybe the next time

the coins will stay in.

But instead of coins

it was parts of herself,

so she keeps giving

and giving

but she’s running out.

She has no more coins

and because seeing the empty bank account

hurts less

than being alone

she has vodka for dinner

and TUMS for breakfast.

~

Author: Ava Ciminillo Delamotte
Image: Audrey Nicole/Instagram
Editor: Caitlin Oriel

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