‘A fear as real as…’
What my experience living with Body Dysmorphia feels like.
A constant battle with myself.
People telling me that what I see isn’t real, but being unable to see anything else.
I wrote this poem to try to illustrate what it feels like to be so caught up in that distorted mindset. It makes little sense, but neither does Body Dysmorphia-
a metaphor for my life, I guess.
So, here it is…
A fear as real as the Grim Reaper,
all hooded cloak,
scythe holding,
merciless hands
awaiting me.
Fate sealed.
Jolted back
when I look in the mirror
and there’s nothing there
except..
me.
The realisation that
it is me.
/
A fear as real as the Grim Reaper
(not real at all),
but a haunting vision all the same.
All hooded cloak-
baggy jumper,
scythe holding-
skin pinching,
merciless hands
awaiting me.
Fate sealed.
Jolted back
when I look in the mirror
and there’s nothing there-
not even me.
Just an empty shell
of who I used to be.
/
A fear as real as the Grim Reaper
(not real at all),
but real to me.
/
‘You only try to destroy that which you’re afraid of.’
The realisation that
it is me whom I am afraid of-
a fear of flesh
(my own).
I hit self-destruct
until I’m numb.
Empty.
Gone.
Fate sealed.
Just another statistic to add to the data sheets.
Just another case study of, just another girl, who was more scared of her own flesh than she was of dying.
/
A fear as real as the Grim Reaper
(not real at all),
but real to me.
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