Snap

"You're so thin, you look like you'd just snap," they say to me. But what these devastatingly arrogant souls don't understand is that I already have. I snapped at the moment I had to swallow my dignity, and choke back the tears. Their words snapped my legs and society snapped my neck. Now I just dangle here like a broken doll. I snapped the day I looked into his eyes and knew that he would never love me. I snapped when my heart was broken by the biggest player of them all; life. I snapped when I was eight years old and had been abruptly uprooted from the only thing I'd ever known. I fucking snapped the moment I realized that I had stopped loving myself, and just stopped loving all together. Maybe that's why I grew up so fast. Because everything I'd ever believed in just crumbled in the wind and I had been left to pick up the pieces. I have had my happy weeks, but this isn't one of them. I sure hope that the next time I'm told to stand with my legs together, that I hear applause. Because that's all I seem to be. A circus show freak. I hope that you're surely amused with the space between my thighs and I hope you find it funny that my hipbones jut out. I didn't choose this body and trust me if I had I would have made a much better choice. I wouldn't have chose to live my life out in a body that looks like it could snap. I didn't choose the comments about my weight or the words about my legs. I wonder if they know that every time I look in a mirror, I hear their voices calling my "anorexic", "too thin", and "fragile." Their voices haunt me. I hope one day, when I leave, my words will haunt them too.