Moving Essay Draft on Anorexia

This is my final draft on my moving essay, I hope you all enjoy it and learn something while watching it. Some of the picture are a little graphic, just so you know ahead of time. Enjoy!

- Katie

What Is This Feeling?

This moving essay is killing me. Not because it's so much work, but because of what my topic is. I decided to do a very personal essay, one about my struggle with an eating disorder. Looking at all these images of emaciated girls and boys is bringing back a lot of really tough memories. For someone who hasn't personally gone through the life-altering terror that is anorexia or bulimia, it is truly horrifying to recant your life from that time. When I was looking at photos in class one day I almost started to cry; not necessarily because the photos were so disturbing, but because I still feel some sick desire to be as skinny as the girls in the pictures. It made me feel sick to my stomach when these terrible thoughts ran through my head. How could I let myself think that emaciated look is beautiful? It is vile and unnatural, and so unbelievably bad for your body. With my friends, I was able to stop hurting myself and get better. Hopefully, my moving essay will help people with ED's see that they can get help if they just tell people they have a problem.

- Katie

MAXimum Disclosure

So the trick here would be for you guys to see if you can figure out what my poem is about...enjoy.

MAXimum Disclosure

Distracted by wandering eyes, so

Deeply set in penetrating judgmental flare

How does one become invisible, in

A sea of an-Other’s perception?

Protected by steel, the heart’s enclosed

And has not stolen the love in which

Dear Maximus might bring down his mighty sword for

Taking back the primary seat of his literal right.

Intensions of the innocent (internally) resonate, and

Spill from the (internal) lips, to

Offer a (silent) plea of empathy, for

Here he is friend and not foe, like the

Great Maximus sees as being so, so, so…Evil.

But open thine eyes, their Maximum width,

To observe the interests of literal left,

Where roosts the real reveler of ambulatorious* action,

Although secretive by way of her own reasoning,

Completely unknown to dear Maximus

And Me…his faultless enemy.

So what is the Great to do to the

Idler that dare take his literal left?

His anger is hidden by a pretence that

All is well…but anger never hides true

For any half-wit, such as myself, can plainly see

That Maximus, with his sword at the ready, wants to kill me.

-Chucho-

*Latin spelling of ambulatory (missing the accents over ‘a.2’ and ‘o.1’)

I actually recorded me reading the poem out loud for those of you who are better with seeing and hearing the poem as it was written...

Hint: Really pay attention to the word choice in this poem (or riddle?) if you want to figure it out...

On Time: To Myself

It is not wasted time if you have the time to waste to begin with. There is a thin dotted line between thinking about doing something and actually doing it, but since you have so much time to waste what keeps you from doing anything and everything? If you think that there’s no reason to do something when you have time to do anything, then how is it that you will most likely talk yourself out of doing everything? Instead of wasting time, you are now just not following through with those things that you could be doing. After coming to terms with your conscience, it dawns on you that the day has been dulled down to this cyclical pattern, that you created, where you don’t do the things you could be doing because everything else that you’re not doing is now considered “wasted time”. Then comes the guilt of turning everything into something, something into nothing, and nothing into anything that you could have done, but didn’t.

With that in the past, the future holds only the same time with different things to do, which you probably won’t do, whether you want to or not, and so begins a new day where possibilities seem endless, but time has now become useless. It does not slow down; it does not tire itself, but rather it continues droning on, cutting a new possibility of opportunity with every passing minute. And you are just standing in the middle of this time wondering what it is trying to prove by never stopping. Impossible is a word that comes to mind, but who are you to tell time that it should “give it a rest”- it being the minutes, and a rest being what time needs the most.

But then you start to question the integrity of time, when time only offers you to do something, when you only offer time to do nothing because you want some answers from time before giving in to its insatiable reputation of making people use it. Silly time, thinking it can trick you, but you are smarter than time…or is it that you become smarter over time, which would imply that you are using time--cheaply hoarding it for your own personal gain--until you don’t need it anymore; until you begin to waste it again. That, ultimately, is time’s worst folly, the fact there is so much time and yet it can be so easily thrown away. Hopefully, someday you will find the spot where wasted time is kept, and the secret will be revealed that you are allowed to use it however you wish. But before you start your search for more time, there’s something you should know…

It’s no secret-time is all you have. Use it wisely.