So I smile when you make fun of me for it, tell you to shut up and pretend to stop. I'll carry on hitting myself - only you're looking the other way now. Sometimes tiny little bruises curl around my stomach, that little chance of life slowly seeping away - I know it, you tell me it will happen, but I still carry on. And then I will eat. And eat, and eat and carry on. Even though I am not hungry, even though I will have to make myself sick now. Even though I will have to keep punching myself in the stomach. I eat now, I do. I don't starve and I don't stop myself anymore. Mainly because you're all too aware & you can see me doing it. Then you shout at me, you make me feel guilty, you know my weakness and I have to stop. Now I eat because I know it is the best way for me to lose weight. And it is something I think about constantly. It seems strange to me that I never mentioned it before. Especially because I spend so long constructing it in my mind. But you saw, now and you know. And I'm frightened to step onto those scales and find out what they say - because it won't be what I want, and I will weigh more than yesterday, not less. Because I have to lose weight, I have to be in control and I have to be perfect. I have to be because otherwise nothing will work. Everyone will realise that I can't even keep this up, how much of a fake I am, how much I can't keep things together and how selfish I am. Because this is how I think. This is what life is to me. Except when you make me forget and you love me like that - when you don't care, and make me safe. That's what I want, I want to be safe - but every safe feeling I have is so fleeting, it never ever stays, no one ever stays.

Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending:

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