I feel like a balloon attached to a string.

I want to binge and purge...yet I don't really feel like eating; have no appetite...I feel completely hollow, as if I have no presence in the world whatsoever...the only way I feel like I exist is by this method of taking in the world and expelling it out of me ( Read more... )

Even my own words confuse me. I can't elucidate anything, even to myself. I lay in the dark, spilling over into the next day where I rise, ashen and dizzy. My fingers constrict into fists. I turn inwards into the nebula of the mind where I am lost, tortured into oblivion. There is such a mess here I cannot but fear I am doomed to repeat it. ( Read more... )

It's hard to become what you want to be. I can't acknowledge the mess I am. The soft bruises all over my body, the ones on my head that look like concussion welts. The joints in my legs failing me like they used to do when I would overexercise. My skin, cracked and refusing to heal. The pains in my chest, the headaches, the damaged teeth. The ( Read more... )

It feels so amazing not to be able to feel anything at all.