Listen to the whispers that curl into your head at night, calling you ugly and fat and stupid and bitch and whore and worst of all, "a disappointment." Puke and starve and cut and drink because you don't want to feel any of this. Puke and starve and drink and cut because you need the anesthetic and it works. For a while. But then the anesthetic turns into poison and by then it's too late because you are mainlining it now, straight into your soul. It is rotting you and you can't stop.

Look in a mirror and find a ghost. Hear every heartbeat scream that everysinglething is wrong with you.

Monday, March 26, 2012

Shit.

I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself.
I hate eating. I hate eating. I hate eating. I hate eating. I hate eating.
I miss eating normal. I miss eating normal. I miss eating normal. I miss eating normal. I miss eating normal.
Why can't I? Why can't I? Why can't I? Why can't I? Why can't I?
Fuckfuckfuckfuck.
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