• Would You Even Know? The Poem
    Would you even know: If I was bulimic?
    I could hide it well.
    I could eat breakfast.
    And make it all disappear before lunch.
    Eat what I wanted to please my friends.
    They wouldn’t know either.
    I’d disguise it perfectly.
    It’s how I hide the pain.
    And you’d never know…
    I’m your Daughter.

    Would you even know: If I was to overdose?
    I could complain from headaches.
    Take the maximum amount in one sitting.
    Pass out before school.
    Arrive late and tell my friends I was sick.
    They wouldn’t know either.
    It would be covered perfectly.
    It’s how I ignore your divorce.
    And you’d never know…
    I’m you Son.

    Would you even know: If I was anorexic?
    I could fake a healthy diet.
    Skip breakfast or eating an apple.
    And throw it all away once you were out of sight.
    Drink water for lunch.
    Tell my friends I ate before I came.
    They wouldn’t know either.
    It would be disguised perfectly.
    It’s how I feel better about myself.
    And you’d never know…
    I’m your Niece.

    Would you even know: If I was a cutter?
    I could cover it well.
    I’d use sweat bandages or bandages,
    And claim that my cat scratched me.
    Cover my scars with a long hoodie to please my friends.
    They wouldn’t know either.
    It would be hidden perfectly.
    It’s how I let go of the anger.
    And you’d never know…
    I’m you Nephew.

    So know you know…. the info at least.
    Maybe you’ve learned the signs.
    Maybe you’ve seen something you recognize.
    The point is…
    What will you do?
    If you knew?
    That it was me.
    Would you help me fight it?
    Reach out to me?
    Cause if you don’t know now,
    You might find out…
    When I’m dead.

    Poem Form

    What You Don’t Know The Short Story
    So, I have something to say.
    Actually a big something.
    Probably a something that will make you mad.
    But it’s your fault.
    You never noticed.
    I appeared fine, but
    Underneath,
    That’s where the truth was. And you never saw it.

    So, Are you ready to know?
    Are you really sure?
    First, promise I’ll be
    Immune from prosecution.
    Since prosecution is the reason
    This all started.
    Now I’m ready to tell you
    What’s wrong with your child.
    ---------------------Beginning of Story-----------------------
    It started at school
    Like most things do.
    The pressure, the loneliness, the confusion,
    The works.
    The center of the universe for the popular teenager,
    And hell for everyone else.
    Bullying, Bragging, Fashion, Fakes,
    Tired Tears.

    That’s when the usual was happening.
    I was walking to third period to learn
    Español.
    Goodie, Another test to pass and then
    Get ridiculed for such a good grade.
    When did the tables turn?
    Since when is it a bad thing to
    Actually get a passing grade?

    Anyway, español was fine.
    I sit in the back where I can receive
    My stellar grades…unnoticed.
    And then they just had to ruin my day!
    Comparing people!
    The worst game to ever rule high school.
    I’m surprised people haven’t turned it into a board game.
    Someone could make millions.

    Well, here’s how they played that day: “Person A or Person B?”
    “A. B looks a hot mess.”
    “Okay then. Person A or Person C?”
    “Mix, they both look fine.”
    “What about D (me)?”
    “Pardon me while I barf.” End of “Playful” Gaming.
    Excuse me! I never mess with you.
    What’s wrong with you that you always have to be messing with me?

    That just made me feel lower than a penny. You happy now, Gamers?
    I’m not like other people because I have a little thing called
    RESPECT for myself and for others.
    That doesn’t make me any less attractive as a
    Person.
    There’s no way on earth I’m gonna be seen as an easy
    Fling.
    But life is never that easy. Right?

    Don’t rush me!
    I’m getting to my point.
    After school, I lay in bed.
    (Forget homework. It’s not like it will bring
    Down my 100 average anyway.)
    I can’t believe they said that about me.
    I was staring right at them…and they were staring at me.
    Am I really that low that people can insult me… to my face?

    What to do? Tell my parents?
    Nah, all they’d say is, ”Everyone goes through this
    Stuff at sometime. You just gotta
    Fight it…Virtue… Virtue…virtue crap.
    Blah blah blah…. (Cue in the Charlie Brown sound effects…now)”
    Go to the Counselor? Hell no, They’d be worse and say,
    “What we need to do is examine how you feel…”. Well, I feel like
    I’ve been insulted by jerks. I don’t need a shrink. I need an exterminator.

    I thought I could break something. I hear it’s a good
    Stress reliever. But then I got to
    Explain that to the (pa)rents.
    Cut myself? Heck no, I’m not emo and I can’t even stand
    The doctor giving me a shot.
    No way I could inflict pain upon myself…on purpose.
    And the sight of blood makes me gag…gag?
    Now, that’s an idea! Then I decided.

    It was the easiest way to get
    Rid of everything bothering me.
    After everything I had to take,
    I could get rid of it…physically. My mind no longer had to take it.
    Yes. I became bulimic.
    And not because of weight either,
    But to release the weight,
    The weight that was slowly smothering me.

    The first time was hard.
    Your first time trying anything is weird and difficult.
    I had to practice.
    It needed to be quick and perfect.
    So I looked fine afterward,
    So there was no smell in the sink (toilets are nasty),
    So I could to it at school,
    And so no one could see the tears…. I mean, My tears.

    I faked sick. A LOT.
    At least once or twice a week.
    Normally, Friday’s to get in a long weekend of
    “Practice”.
    I got good.
    Amazing even, I probably would have gotten an A++
    And people would have clapped for me at school.
    For throwing up and looking fine…. In under thirty seconds.

    It hurt. Bad.
    I did it, at most, 3 times a day, but it felt good to release everything.
    Someone insulted me.
    Throw it up.
    Someone laughed at my outfit.
    Get rid of it.
    But slowly, It hurt to talk. Things switched.
    My body was suffering and my mind was fine.

    I thought Do I find another outlet?
    Do I lose my voice?
    I knew this would happen,
    But I didn’t want it to happen
    So fast.
    Getting rid of all my struggles, but the struggles moved
    To my body.
    And I could lose my voice.
    The one thing I should have turned to in the first place.

    So I had to speak up.
    Defend my voice and myself.
    I was going to try and stop
    Cold turkey.
    Stupid, I know, but if I can ace
    AP World History (my most dreaded subject)
    This should be a piece of cake. Right?
    Wrong. Dead wrong. It was pure hell.

    It took all of my courage,
    To speak up when I was insulted,
    To stand my ground when I was made fun of,
    And to breathe when I wanted to shout.
    It took all my strength
    To never use the bathroom in school,
    To fight the urges to throw up in class,
    And to look forward. Never back.

    And I survived,
    I pulled through.
    I can say my confidence has been restored.
    No longer do I let people define who I am.
    They have their opinions and
    I have mine.
    And I’m really proud of that.
    And I’m very proud of me.

    So, Mom and Dad,
    I made my confessions.
    I had a fall and I got up.
    By myself, Believing in myself,
    Being myself.
    So, What is wrong with your child?
    Through all of my struggles, I could never tell
    You.

    You!
    The people who brought me into this world, and
    I couldn’t even tell you,
    When I felt like the world was trying to take me
    Out.
    You’re my parents!
    I’m supposed to be able to come to you with anyway.
    I’m supposed to come to you when I’m down and out.

    But I’m stronger now,
    And I want you to be too.
    Please be the ones on my side.
    Let us be a family that
    Can communicate problems,
    And live through them.
    Because I don’t know what would have happened,
    If I decided to be a cutter instead. And that’s what really scares me.

    Yeah sure, People still bug me.
    But whenever I feel like turning back to the old ways,
    I turn to my new outlet
    Writing.
    I enjoy reaching out to people
    And telling them my story.
    I hope that I can touch their hearts, so they will
    Never have to endure an experience… like mine.