Energy runs like electricity through my body,
adrenaline surges beneath my skin.
I concentrate on my feet pounding on the ground,
empowered by the feeling of exercising,
of the hollow in my stomach.
As I increase my speed,
I start to lose the vision,
the motivation for this lifestyle.
I push myself forward,
ignoring the pain in my legs,
the sharp jabbing in my ribs.
Gasping for breath,
the air rasping in my lungs,
my mind recognizing only the pain.

Yet through the fog,
the heavy cloud of agony,
they surface:
“Ana is a way of life;embrace it.”
“Hunger hurts but starving works.”
“Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.”
They were like lifelines,
cast out to me as I drown in the suffering.
I pushed forward,
accomplishment and pride washing over me for persevering,
but it still isn’t enough.
Heat forms at the back of my throat,
my stomach churns with nausea.
I keel over and rid myself of the little I’d eaten,
and,encouraged by the feeling,
I stand up and begin sprinting again.