It's not fair. Why can't I just be satisified? I am happy now. I feel alive again but so lost and confused. I'm more insecure about my body than ever. Sometimes I wish to go back. It's so much easier to run away. It's so much easier to shove it down. It's so much easier to purge my feelings. At least when I was numb I didn't have to deal with anything. I want to rid myself of the sin. Of the pain, or the sorrow. It's so much easier to say you want to recover when you're lying in a hospital bed; every bone in your body visible with a heart rate of 40. To be alone. To feel untouchable. To feel empowered. That false high; feeling anything is possible. Feeling in control. I know well enough I was out of control. My life was spiralling in a downwards circle, spinning out of control and falling deeper into a black hole. But I didn't care. I didn't see myself as falling. I felt higher than any human being. To have the ability to resist the very thing your body needs to survive made me think I was better than anyone else. When in reality I couldn't even eat because I was so afriad of food; once again the very thing that would keep me alive.
I know it's normal to feel these urges and to think these thoughts. My eating disorder will never go away, I'll struggle with it the rest of my life. But how do you deal with the constant war in your head? Of course I love recovery; the things it has done for me are things my eating disorder could never fullfill. But I almost felt like I loved myself more in my ED. I know that sounds twisted but it's so hard to accept my new body. I'm not meant to be model rain thin. And I absouletly hate that about myself.
And you won't even talk to me. You won't even acknowledge I'm here anymore. I hate to admit it, but you're probably the only in the outside world that understands my situtation. Yet I hate you. I hate how I want you to talk to me. I hate how I feed off your attention. What is wrong with me? You're not what I want. You can't even respect me. Yet you pull me in. You infuriate me; your words are sharp and bitter on your tongue. I want to hurt you. But I'm not strong. I'm vulnerable, weak, and pathetic. Your attention encouraged me to starve, to purge every emotion I had. Of course I never told you; of course I resorted to myself. Of course I gave myself unto my ED and let her solve my problems. I didn't feel validated of the attention you gave to me so I felt frustrated when I recieved it yet I didn't want to let go. I feed off it. It's literally all I had aside from my eating disorder; which one way or the other always betrayed me. I hate you but you were right about everything you said about me.