the more i eat, the hungrier i am.
the less i eat, the less i want.
the thinner i get, the thinner i want to be.
and everyday, i get closer to death.
Sad eyes.
This is what eating disorders give you. You don’t get to be thin, your ‘ana’ won’t ever let you feel skinny or perfect. You don’t get to be pale or waif like or tragic or interesting. You won’t suddenly meet a knight in shining armor who will lift you up and feel how light you are, because no one will even want to look at you. They ravage your body and soul, and the scars won’t fade. You begin to see the world through tired, monochrome eyes, all the colour drained and details blurred. ‘Ana’ and ‘mia’ are parasites, and they’ll bleed you dry.
i feel so lost.
i dont want to go to college.
even if i do go, i dont know what i want to do there.
i dont see a purpose in anything anymore, especially when i genuinely believe i’m not good enough.
i’m tired of not feeling good enough and having no way to prove myself otherwise, because everything, EVERYTHING in my life proves to me that i actually am not good enough.
i hate my dad. he’s always gone.
i hate my grandma. she’s over-bearing and controlling and demanding and just flat out needs to die, now.
i hate my stepmom. she’s a bitch.
i hate my mom. she doesn’t want me.
i hate my brothers. they’re so fucking needy and fat.
i hate my friends. they’re so selfish, and i’m too selfless.
i just need to die. yes, the thoughts have come back. i’ve been cutting, still. throwing up, still. nobody sees how broken i am because i’m just too fucking good at hiding it.
