Mar 2015
There are two halves to my story
Half of me wants to get better. To function properly in this modern world. Right now I feel like an old computer, they tried to fix me twice but I shut down and was thrown out. I want the gleaming screen back, the light in my eyes. Half of me wants to please everyone and say YES I AM RECOVERED. Half of me wants to shout it from the rooftops that I do love food and I don't hate my body.
But
The other of me cuts all it's wires. It allows the people utilizing me as a computer to type unbearable things and never backspace. Leaving painful words permanently stained like a tattoo. Half of me wants to cut so deep I begin to bleed and never stop, till every ounce is gone. I know I'm empty and all this is is ******* people pleasing because I HAVE TO BE perfect. I HAVE TO do the right thing and everyone says this is what's right that recovery is better so I play along, trying to be perfect. But in my head in order to be perfect you have to be content with yourself and eating disrupts my peace to the point where I do wish to die.
They all tell me my future looks bright but in my eyes I'm already a ******* failure. What's my purpose? I spend all my energy trying to destroy my body and they spend all their's trying to fix it. What I am, is a waste. A waste of time, of money, of love and waste of any help I've ever received. I don't have hope that this will ever go away. Because right now it's living in my bones my heart my brain and every one of my ******* blood cells and it swears to me it's never leaving. I ******* hate this but ignoring it and fighting against it only makes me hate myself.
I've been hiding, I've been hiding
But it's all built up so far I feel I'm about to burst. I'm so sorry for everything I've ever put you through I'm sorry for wasting your time. Because it is precious, and my siblings and others deserve it far more than I do.
I've had a plan since day one to get out and destroy myself and I guess now is the time it plans to surface.
There's nothing left of me anyway, just fat and vile emotions of hate towards myself. I can't love and I can't paint. I can't talk and I can't barely ******* function without medical support. I don't deserve to be here, I don't deserve your attention and the world has suffered enough having to tolerate me for so long. It's time for me to go
Half of me wants to get better. To function properly in this modern world. Right now I feel like an old computer, they tried to fix me twice but I shut down and was thrown out. I want the gleaming screen back, the light in my eyes. Half of me wants to please everyone and say YES I AM RECOVERED. Half of me wants to shout it from the rooftops that I do love food and I don't hate my body.
But
The other of me cuts all it's wires. It allows the people utilizing me as a computer to type unbearable things and never backspace. Leaving painful words permanently stained like a tattoo. Half of me wants to cut so deep I begin to bleed and never stop, till every ounce is gone. I know I'm empty and all this is is ******* people pleasing because I HAVE TO BE perfect. I HAVE TO do the right thing and everyone says this is what's right that recovery is better so I play along, trying to be perfect. But in my head in order to be perfect you have to be content with yourself and eating disrupts my peace to the point where I do wish to die.
They all tell me my future looks bright but in my eyes I'm already a ******* failure. What's my purpose? I spend all my energy trying to destroy my body and they spend all their's trying to fix it. What I am, is a waste. A waste of time, of money, of love and waste of any help I've ever received. I don't have hope that this will ever go away. Because right now it's living in my bones my heart my brain and every one of my ******* blood cells and it swears to me it's never leaving. I ******* hate this but ignoring it and fighting against it only makes me hate myself.
I've been hiding, I've been hiding
But it's all built up so far I feel I'm about to burst. I'm so sorry for everything I've ever put you through I'm sorry for wasting your time. Because it is precious, and my siblings and others deserve it far more than I do.
I've had a plan since day one to get out and destroy myself and I guess now is the time it plans to surface.
There's nothing left of me anyway, just fat and vile emotions of hate towards myself. I can't love and I can't paint. I can't talk and I can't barely ******* function without medical support. I don't deserve to be here, I don't deserve your attention and the world has suffered enough having to tolerate me for so long. It's time for me to go
