sweet

I’ll start–

Every day I pride myself on being able to eat 800 calories and not binge (or rather, should I say, my anorexia does), but the hours in between are absolute hell. All day long my brain says, “I can’t wait to wake up and eat my tiny breakfast because I starved myself all day yesterday!” As time goes on it’s, “I can’t wait until my sugar free latte at 3pm as my lunch!” which then turns into “I can’t wait to eat my salad at 6:30pm! This is what I’ve been waiting all day for!” Finally, it’s “I can’t wait until I eat my apple right before bed so I’ll actually be able to sleep without hunger pains!” Then, I cry and wake up hoping that I lost weight to make all of my suffering “worth it.”

You know what I do in between the few times I allow myself to choke down the same three safe foods? I cry when I see someone eat something amazing or even if I smell it. I fantasize about being able to eat anything outside of my safe foods. I can’t even remember the last time I ate fucking bread. BREAD. I wander around the streets aimlessly because I can’t think of a single thing to do with my day. I go on Tumblr for hours just to feel like I’m getting something out of the misery I’m subjecting myself to every day. I have no friends. No job. No money. No college degree. I’m 27, live with my parents, and have nothing to show for my life except that I weigh 85 pounds. 

motherfucking word