Pacing

I've kinda been avoiding talking about eating for the past couple of days, mostly because it hasn't been going very well. I've just been "feeling fat" all week, trying to eat and be good with it all, but then feeling worse. And note that when I say "feeling fat", it's so much more than just "feeling fat". It's very difficult for people to understand. Like yesterday, I kinda took some prescription pain pills in a kinda halfway suicide attempt and then was like "what the crap am I doing?" so I threw them back up. My boyfriend found out and was like "why did you do this?" and all I could say was "feeling fat and worthless."

It's not just some stupid "teenage hormone stuff". I'm 20. Lots of people struggle like this. And we don't know how to explain. I've often said I wish I could plug a USB cord into my head and my boyfriend's head and he would just understand.

Whenever I talk to someone about it face to face, my emotions turn off, and they can't see the raw mess that I become when I'm alone. I begged my boyfriend to hang out last night and he kept asking why and I couldn't tell him. You can't describe the fear or the hate. The plain bitter raw self hate. And the sense of valuelessness. Unloveable.

I asked him last night who deserves love. He didn't have an answer. I don't believe in love. I think it's just something they tell us little girls to make us think that prince charming is real and coming along.

Don't get me wrong, the guy I'm with right now is totally my prince charming and my hero. He has literally been my life saver. Do I love him? I don't know. I just know that I know he could never love me and the wreck that I have made of my life. Maybe that's what fat is. That feeling of hopelessness and like there's no point and no one will ever love you or understand you or let you just be you. Maybe fat is loneliness or emptiness. If I had all the answers, I would've published my book by now and been a millionaire.

I don't want to die, sometimes it just seems better than living though. I know I probably will never seriously consider killing myself, & in the end I will do something with this nasty little self preservation instinct (like throwing up the pills). Maybe it's just like asking for a hug or a cuddle. I just want a hug sometimes. And it's a sad pathetic life when no one's around to hug you. This apartment is like a cage sometimes and I feel like a wildcat pacing back and forth. Looking out at the world wistfully, but threatening to bite anyone who comes in. Cornered, wounded, and practically insane with the desire to lash out wherever I can. At the same time, lonely and hopeless because of my unloveable nature and worthless life.

I don't know.