I still want it.
I want to get better but I still want IT. The all consuming IT. The bones at my chest, at at my hips. My ribcage, shining through skin. My hipbones, little mountains I could hold in my palms. My collabones, catching my long hair in their hollows.
I want to get better.
But then I remember the empty feeling, the clawing feeling. The feeling like floating. The shaking of my legs. The dizziness of my head, flying away, the way I can't think or remember or talk.
I want it. I still want it. Oh fuck, I want it so bad.
No, you don't have all those bones. You're not that thin, really. You could lose more weight, for sure.
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