Nothing's changed.
I posted this on RYL, but wanted to post it here too. I really can't do this. I'm sorry.
I'm scared. Scared of what I'm doing to myself. I realised this morning, in a rare moment of clarity, that this is going to kill me. Maybe not today, not in a month. But it will. And if I'm honest, that is never what I wanted.
I went for a walk last night, up to the quarry. Stood at the top, looking down. I was close. So close. I'd been drinking again. Red wine. I hate wine.
If I'm not cutting or burning I'm starving, puking, drinking, throwing my body round, giving guys at school head just because I don't care. about anything anymore.
I've become so nihilistic, and my apathy scares me. Although not enough to make me want to stop.
Sure, my bulimia has all but gone. But I haven't eaten... well, anything really, for weeks now. The thought of food makes me ill. I dont want to die. But I can't eat. I can't. I'm fat fat fat fat.
I don't deserve to eat.
A while back I decided enough was enough. I went to the doctor, am now in CBT and seeing a psychiatrist and psychologist regularly. I still feel the same. It was my last hope, my last desperate reach for something to grasp on to, something to make everything real again.
I can't do this.
I'm going to die someday. I need to face up to it. I. am. going. to. die.
I'm not even that thin. Sure, I'm underweight. But not anorexic. yet.
My sister is getting worried. Says I'm too thin, losing too much weight. She knows about my self harm. She asked me if I made myself sick. Says she thinks I have anorexia. Me, anorexia says I? Laugh in her face. Don't be silly. I'm just eating healthily and exercising because it makes me feel good.
lies.
Everything is a lie.
Everything is gone.
I'm scared. Scared of what I'm doing to myself. I realised this morning, in a rare moment of clarity, that this is going to kill me. Maybe not today, not in a month. But it will. And if I'm honest, that is never what I wanted.
I went for a walk last night, up to the quarry. Stood at the top, looking down. I was close. So close. I'd been drinking again. Red wine. I hate wine.
If I'm not cutting or burning I'm starving, puking, drinking, throwing my body round, giving guys at school head just because I don't care. about anything anymore.
I've become so nihilistic, and my apathy scares me. Although not enough to make me want to stop.
Sure, my bulimia has all but gone. But I haven't eaten... well, anything really, for weeks now. The thought of food makes me ill. I dont want to die. But I can't eat. I can't. I'm fat fat fat fat.
I don't deserve to eat.
A while back I decided enough was enough. I went to the doctor, am now in CBT and seeing a psychiatrist and psychologist regularly. I still feel the same. It was my last hope, my last desperate reach for something to grasp on to, something to make everything real again.
I can't do this.
I'm going to die someday. I need to face up to it. I. am. going. to. die.
I'm not even that thin. Sure, I'm underweight. But not anorexic. yet.
My sister is getting worried. Says I'm too thin, losing too much weight. She knows about my self harm. She asked me if I made myself sick. Says she thinks I have anorexia. Me, anorexia says I? Laugh in her face. Don't be silly. I'm just eating healthily and exercising because it makes me feel good.
lies.
Everything is a lie.
Everything is gone.