Dear food,
I hate you. I love you. I need you, unfortunately.
Why do you always have to be the focus of my life? Why, when I'm upset or sad or angry or lonely or bored, do I turn to you, or the lack of you, for my comfort and self-destruction? I know it's wrong to do that. I know it's unhealthy, and it hurts me in the long run. I know the short-term comfort isn't worth the longer-term self-hatred, or the possible medical consequences of an eating disorder. I know this, and yet I keep turning to you over and over and over. Where did my ability to be sensible about you go? Why does it seem to be completely impossible for me to eat normally anymore?
Someday, I suppose, I'm going to have to make peace with you. But I just don't know how anymore, and that frustrates me, and sometimes it even scares me.
I wish I could just forget you exist. But that's not even remotely possible.
Fuck.
No love,
Me
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2 comments:
why don't you seek help? You don't need to have this disorder? Please get help and save yourself, for no one else can do it for you??
:)
I know how you feel, all too fucking well.
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