the year,

just days i crossed off on the calender,

time elapsed too fast for my slow pace,

i sprint to catch up, 

yet i am left behind,

crying,

screaming,

is anyone still here with me? 

sometimes,

i close my eyes

and dream of a world

different from ours,

a world

where things feel less broken,

a world

When did skipping meals become a right of passage? 

A secret society of sickness so many seek to squeeze into, 

But really, not squeeze, rather slip.