Fiasco

"I am beginning to measure myself in strength, not pound. Sometimes in smiles."

The taste of what I last stuffed into my mouth lingers
Oil stains on my fingertips
It is not pleasure
I am not enjoying it
Instead it sets of the trigger
I take a deep breathe to calm my nerves
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale

I miss the feeling of being in control dearly
When the number drops every morning albeit rather slowly
Surviving on minimal but felt supreme
Calm and composed

I wonder what was the spark
Appearance was a minor factor

Some days I still swallow my secrets with each painful bite
I still harbour daunting thoughts
And when I find myself in a sticky situation
I ask me, Cheryl
"What will normal people do?"
Hmm

Positive days
It rarely appears
Neither does it last for long
My demon
My head
Haunt and hunt
The war in my mind
I can never win

Why