goddamn hypocrite

don't you dare tell me to love myself
when you can’t even love me yourself.
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Not sure at all how to care for myself 

in the dark.


“this”

i honestly never thought that i’d feel like this ever again.

i dragged myself out of bed for work this morning and don’t even know how i got ready. i managed to put on a creased shirt which has been sitting in a pile in the corner of my room for the past couple of weeks, and a pair of black, unwashed jeans with food stains from my last binge and purge.

perhaps i looked as horrid as i felt, but i doubt it. i didn’t have it in me this morning to even try to give a shit.

i drove most of the way to work feeling numb. numbness isn’t something i’ve experienced (or at least not to this degree) in about a year so to be numb again was surreal.

i barely slept last night because i couldn’t stop the tears from flooding. because of everything. because i’ve worked so hard and made so much progress in the past year, but in the end it just doesn’t matter enough to me for me to want to go on. and because the only belonging i’ve ever felt has come from the act of self-destruction.

i stopped for coffee. i waited for my order for way too long. when i finally got it, i walked out the door and took a sip only to realise that the girl who took my order messed it up.

i cried hysterically for all the rest of the way to work. 


vulnerable & triggered

my heart is heavy. as heavy as i’ve become.

last time i was at this weight (a decade ago) i descended into the darkness of my eating disorder and swore never to be at this weight again.

the people around me say that i’m healthy again. i say i’m just fat.

i’m hoping that it’s just a bad day.. bad week.. bad month, but it feels much bigger that an everyday emotion that will pass like they tell you it will.

it’s been a while since i’ve heard my eating disorder speak, but it’s here with me tonight and it’s telling me that everything will be alright.

i believe it.

i’m not in therapy right now because i don’t want to be. because it means either spending thousands and thousands of dollars to get treatment from someone who knows what they’re doing when it comes to eating disorders (which isn’t actually an option because i can’t afford it), or getting free treatment from someone who seems to have no idea whatsoever about the complexities of eating disorders. needless to say, the latter is pointless.

maybe it will all be okay. just like my eating disorder says.