Falling Apart, Barely Breathing

Breathe in. Breathe out. That’s just what I keep telling myself. Whether or not I heed my own advice is another topic completely. I keep telling myself that I look fine, that everything is okay or that if I never see the lines in my abs, or see my ribs poke out that I’m still me and people will still love me. Why? Why am I like this? Why did this screeching, screaming, loud fighting voice get stuck in my head? What did I do to possibly deserve this constant kind of thinking? It just seems unfair. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to save myself. I drown in my own thoughts daily.  I can’t change them. I can’t change me. Every day I succumb myself to becoming my very own victim; a very strange thing isn’t it? You would think I’d just turn it off and make it stop. Impossible. I mean, if there is a way to turn it off, someone please enlighten me because at this point I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I feel like even when I do talk about it to the two most trusted people I have, that I just hurt them. I hurt them because they don’t understand, because they sympathize for me and because they just have to continuously watch me fall apart and watch me cry my eyes out. Honestly, I’m at a loss for words. I just don’t know what to do anymore.

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Ed kept me up for 3 hours the other night. I was thinking, pulling and pinching at my fat, devising plans to not eat, devising ways to eat the minimal amount of food as possible. Welcome to my world, it’s almost always a dark place.

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