I don’t know what I am doing.

I mean, I do; but I cannot let myself accept or even think of what it is that ‘what I am doing’ really means.

I have eaten only four ‘proper’ meals in the past two weeks. My average calorie consumption has probably been 200-900 per day…more so on the lower end of  the scale. 

I’m not sure how much weight I have lost as I am afraid to weigh myself for a number of reasons I won’t go into.

The thing is I know I am deeper into ‘restrict’ mode than I’ve been for some time…and I’ve no genuine desire to challenge it.

'I'm just losing some weight; I'm fine; I'll be fine'

Eating disorder lies, I know. But they sound so sweet.

Everything feels out of control; but I feel in control of my eating. Typical ED thinking…I know.

I know.


Why is this happening?

I’m so tired of this. of Everything. Everyday.

I was trying so hard; trying so, so hard to keep up with my study. But I am behind now. Far behind. I cannot read. I cannot focus on the words and take in the sentences and make sense of page after page.

I used to read and write all the time; I defined myself as a writer and a person who loved reading and who loved learning; I was a high achiever; study came easy to me.

Now I don’t have anything to define myself with. Nothing except depression and an eating disorder.

'You're just not trying hard enough! You're pathetic! You have the physical ability to read and write so just fucking do it! Loser. Fucked up, brain dead loser.”

That’s what my head says. And I feel like it is true. I should be able to try harder. I should be able to do this. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’m disappearing…pieces of me have been fading for the past 8 years since mental illness entered my life…and I can’t seem to salvage myself again.

The Voice in my Head

Fat. Fat. Fat.

That’s the word in my head with every step I take.

Fat. Fat. Fat.

As I force myself to walk faster than everyone else in the city streets…faster than that girl who looks like a model…faster…

Fat. Fat. Fat.

And listen to that word over and over and over…I do not silence it…why dont I just tell it to shut the fuck up? Why…

Fat. Fat. Fat.

Paralyzed Mind

The pain of being in a paralyzed body with a perfectly good mind would im sure be seemingly unbearable. I feel I am in a working body with a paralyzed mind, and u know what? That hurts like hell too.


I feel stuck; stationary; stagnant…going nowhere fast…every time I try to tap into what I’m really feeling all that comes up is strangling anxiety…I don’t know where I am and I don’t know where I’m meant to go…I’m caught in a state of panic and don’t know how to stop it and snap out of it and live…Im breathing and my heart is beating but I am not living.