My eyes float open as the sleeping pills abruptly wear off. I am stretched out across my ridiculously uncomfortable bed and I realize that in my fitful sleep, I have tossed and turned the blankets into a tangled mess, and I am totally trapped. A chill runs down my spine and I shiver as I begin to sit up. I untwist a sheet and 3 fleece blankets from around my ankles and pull my jacket tighter over my arms where it had begun to slide off.
Recently, I've been having a lot of those dreams where you're trying to run but you're in slow motion while the rest of the world is on fast forward. A few times I was running for fun and I kept getting stopped by a really hot guy who kept trying to talk to me and I would run past him because I thought he looked like just another jerk trying to get inside my super tight, teeny-bopper, running shorts but it turns out he was actually a nice guy. Other times, I'm running form someone who's trying to kidnap or shoot me. Those, of course, are always pleasant. But last night's dream was totally different from the rest of late. I was walking down by the beach at night in a long, fluttery dress, and the water kept swirling around my feet and splashing playfully at my ankles and I felt sad because I wanted to walk out into the middle of the ocean, because something was calling to me from across the foamy waves, but I knew I would drown in the long dress. I began to shiver and shake and I was about to cry when I felt someone put their arms around me and kiss my hair gently. Then when they asked me what was wrong, I fainted, falling into the water, soaking the beautiful, goddess-like dress, and dirtying my hair and the dress with sand. That was the last thing I remembered. It was so entrancing, yet surreal.
My mind flits back to last night, or this early morning, rather, around 2:00 when I couldn't sleep and suddenly the inspiration to write a poem had struck me. I walk over to wear my laptop rests on my desk, and sit down. I pull up the file and read it over again.
"Secrets are Meant to be Kept"
Is it worth the risk of judgemental eyes
Looking you over a second time?
Or the way they stop and silently stare
Whenever you're close enough to hear?
How about your friends?
Would they still love you then,
when you pour out your heart in the table?
Just keep it all in:
How you wish to be thin,
For some secrets are meant to be kept.
I am reading the last line, when I feel a cold hand settle lightly on my shoulder. A light, musical voice coos a happy "Good Morning!" to me. I look up at Ana as her wind-chime voice begins again. "You shouldn't keep this poem a secret."
"What are you talking about?" shocked, I search her eyes for a hint of a joke, and finding none, stare silently at her ethereal frame until she explains herself.
"That poem breathes truth." She whispers, "The other girls like you would easily relate to it. Even the boys who love me could relate."
"So," the tone of my voice is riddled with unasked questions as I begin to form one aloud, "You think I should post it on the Pretty Thin blog?"
She smiles a tiny smile that suggests I still haven't guessed her intentions. "Well that's a start," She says playfully, "but tell me one thing you've noticed from posting poems there?"
"They get lost in the sea of other works." I sigh, "So many people post there that its hard for anyone to actually find them."
"This, darling, is sadly true." her hand falls from my shoulder and she sits on the chair next to me. and begins to stare intently at the screen. "Which is why I think you should start a blog for featuring pro-ana poems only. They won't have to compete for space on the pretty thin servers, and they won't get overshadowed by the long rants that wannarexics post that ramble and bemoan their fatness."
I begin to process the idea and flesh it out more in my mind. "That is," I nod in her direction, "A really... good... idea."
"I know." She smiles to herself, "That's why I said it."
I begin to fumble around with the creation of the new page, but I stop at the web address. I look at her with the question in my eyes, and she immediately knows what I am non-verbally asking.
"What to call it?" She vocalizes my question, "Well you want it to be associated with your other blog, so it should have a similar name. See if www.skinnie4evur-poetry.blogspot.com is already taken."
The address was available, just as we'd hoped, and so I began to set up the webpage.
"This will also help to distract you from food." Ana smiled helpfully, "Its always nice to have another reason or excuse not to eat."
