A confession.

on

I am lost. Totally and utterly lost. Every inch of me is numb. I am full of caffeine and laxatives. No life. I am trapped in a body that is slowly killing me, suffocating me. I see people everywhere crying, taking their own lives. I see so much and I see so deeply. That one word anyone says, one single glance, I can interpret their entire life story, entire existence. I don’t really understand anything, but I understand everything. I am emotional, and I am emotionless. I am healthy, and I am dying. I lie and lie and lie. I hide.

I am stuck in this weird place. This sort of nothing place. I’ve been here for a long time, too long. And I look every day, for another path out, but there isn’t one. I hear people yelling at me, to try and get out, but how do you get out when there’s no way out? How do you live when there is no life? Even if I’m not suffering, I know there’s people who suffer. If I’m eating, there’s people who are starving. If I relapse, there are people recovering.

I want to scream out everything that has ever gone wrong ever, but I don’t want the attention. I want to cry while people listen to where it all went wrong. I want people to stop, stop, stop telling me to fight, fight stronger, be stronger, when every inch of me is fading away from fighting every day. I want to recover and I want to be 70 pounds, and I want to be dainty and frail. I want to be bones, but I want life.

I want to help everyone. Absolutely everyone. And I don’t want to be happy, I don’t want to be ok again. Not if there are so many people who have forgotten what being happy is. People. People. People. I see things in a different way, I can see parts of people that perhaps even they don’t realise are there, but I see them. And maybe, maybe, I am lying, and I see nothing. But I see everything. I see how that girl at lunch checked the calorie count at the side of her sandwich. I see how the guy from Bio tugs at his sleeves, and the girl behind me in the queue’s box of diuretics. I see ghosts behind people’s eyes, I see silent pleads for help. I see families that stand emotionless, and people who stand yelling, and every single person, every single one, is broken. So, so broken.

I want to piece everyone back together. Every single person. Except me.

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