Fears and Doubts: A Tutorial on Stupidity →


I am 5’8” and I weigh 123 pounds.

And I stopped getting my period; have not had one since January. I thought since I was eating around 1200 calories a day and my BMI still said I was healthy I was okay. I didn’t listen to my body.

Just recently I went to go see a fertility specialist after…

I never post things that aren’t my poetry, but the poetry is coming less and less and I know a lot of fitblr a follow this blog. This is from my fitblr, and it really means a lot to me. Thanks


I have felt the insides of 

the cage 

I have seen the close

the dark 

the hellish comfortable 

I had let myself become 

accustomed my eyes


My joints bending to 

closed spaces tight and 

small and 

I have seen it 

I have felt it 

I am so much stronger

For it 

I am so much worse

For it 

Paintings on the Wall

When they ask me 

when I am old and grey

what I regret 

I will have a list 

as long as my Hair 

the children will all say 

I have never cut it 

my whole life long 

and my hair does so 

have magic powers

that have kept me alive

as long as I have 


When I am old and grey

and the children whisper 

behind their hands and 

someone asks me what I 


I will say that there are too many 

things to name 

But what I don’t regret

is a much more manageable affair

unlike my hair which 

Has gotten too heavy 

for me to walk with now 

When they ask me, 

when I am old and grey, 

what I don’t regret

not even once

not for a second 

all I could possibly say is



I am

an open casket that

no one really

wanted to see open

Do you know that feeling

of copper in the back

of your throat?

That’s me

I am not the gentle

friendly I am the

Never not even

Now and I will stay that way

I am biting cruel

lemon juice on

Sweet potato


I am

an open casket funeral

that they can’t print

the pictures of in the


I am the scraped knee

side walk chalk without the 

rain but with the


I am the biting at the hand

that feeds them

because they know where

the food happens

what that food is

I am open casket funeral

where no one is



Loneliness is just

What tired girls like

To wax poetic about

You are not alone

You are dramatic

I am not alone

I am


Taking power from the

Feelings until no more

We are not


We are

Dramatically isolated

By personal choice

Through a fear of

Eyes or hands or fingernails

Girls tell me in Iran

They kept their

Fingernails long to


But here they don’t need to

Third grade girls with

Too much lip get

Sent back to


And here I cry about

Being misunderstood



Loneliness isn’t the

Worst thing I can