a few years ago i loved to read (still do) but was always compelled to pace laps around my house while reading. this kind of reminds me of that. and everything else an eating disorder distracts one from besides. anything else enjoyable or productive.
when I was in the worst of the eating disorder (I now consider myself recovered) I couldn't read at all. I also couldn't be on stage without getting out of breath, or sing without feeling nauseous from breathing heavily. EDs can take away so much of what makes people happy - it's hard to focus on a good book when you're still counting the calories you ate that day.
this is a very good poem. and I sympathize, I think, if I understood the meaning correctly. and if I didn't, well, that's okay, because poetry has different meanings for anyone who reads it.
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anyway really nice piece.
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this is a very good poem. and I sympathize, I think, if I understood the meaning correctly. and if I didn't, well, that's okay, because poetry has different meanings for anyone who reads it.
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