it’s been a while since I last wrote anything in here

it seems like everytime I wanna say the same thing

it’s like a broken record over and over again

I look at my body and I can’t find myself

I can’t see the maters

I can’t fit in inside my skin

I see myself trying to scape this fat cage everywhere I look

I’m bloated as a balloon

I’m the fatest I’ve ever been

I can’t hold my mouth I keep eating

but

it’s not like I can just stop eating this time - no

I just can’t say fuck it and lemme drown in this 

lake of mud named starvation

I need to be an adult and I need to fit in

I can’t be sick or I wont be able to take care of myself and I

just don’t know where to go from this point.

I’ve never got this far in recovery

this effort is way too big

I need to keep telling myself I need food

I need to keep making up arguments to fight my sick brain

every meal is a battle

I fight myself and all the other uncountable demons inside my head

“do you see this belly? how big it is

your thighs are touching

your face is round

your arms are giant, they weigh a pound”

it’s just so simple to give up the fight

I came to a point where starving is so normal. Eating nothing is so easy.

Am I functioning backwards?

I see everybody eats like its natural

I see everybody likes to feel full

I see they fight no food demons

Me: *stops eating*

Me: *too much energy drink*

Me: *deletes all instragam photos*

Me: *bitches @ everyone for nothing*

I've been floating around these thoughts to the point where I think my normal is starving myself half the week and bingeing the other half, having anxiety and bitting on my fingers until they bleed, getting angry at literally every little move.

When you have an eating disorder it's never really gone. It's always waiting in the corner, hanging in there watching every breathe you take and waiting for you to slip. Just a slip.

And everything comes back like an avalanche.

It's been years since I don't know what my body is supposed to look like for real. I can't see it. I look but I can't see. All I see is a pack of fat and rolls and things out of place.

I think my shoulders are out of place.

I think my arms are too thick.

I think my belly is always popping out and I have no idea how much it is for real, and how much it's a dysmorphia.

It's a phobia.

I gain weight, I get crazy. And I'm not even exaggerating: I. Get. Crazy.

Half a pound, a whole kilo, a stone. It's all the same in my head, and the moment I realized that I have gone even a little bigger than my mind tells me I should be, I lose the battle.

I get paranoid, self conscious, fearful, sad, annoyed, I feel like I can't sit properly because my fat is stopping me from doing so, I feel like I can't - I CAN'T - lay on my side cause that thing is going to hang down and I can't stand the look of it. It's a torture. It's my mind torturing myself 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

I want it to stop, I want to be free. But I feel like the only freedom I get is when I finally get so skinny I wouldn't find any fat to complain about. And that's a fucking lie. It's a giant, big, fat lie. Cause it's a disorder. It's a disease. I will never be satisfied by what I see and it's never ending.

I thought I was okay but turns out I'm only okay when I'm losing weight.

I feel ridiculous because that's literally the only way I can feel less sad about myself, its losing weight.

And I know it shouldn't be the reason for my confidence. My life shouldnt be attached and stitched to it so badly I don't see myself without it.

I know all about it.