I can feel it when I'm coming off a caffeine high, and I'm driving and get lightheaded. I can feel it when I don't look my parents in the eye, when I snap at my sister, scoff at a friend. I can feel it enter me, consume me, take the calcium from my bones. I can feel it when I faint. I can feel it when I try to sing in choir but I"m so exhausted I can barely breathe.
All to look beautiful. Sometimes I ask myself why I'm doing it. I hate myself for breaking my stepmother's heart. My beautiful stepmother, who took the place of my dead mother so well for so long. And my father, trying to shield me from myself, as if he can do something.
I scare myself so easily. But then I look in the mirror and know. I know why I do this. I do this to feel good about myself. I do this to feel appreciated and loved by worried family and friends. I do it so I can stretch my limits, to give myself something to live for. Nothing else is worth it. Everything I hold dear is gone, blown away. Nothing else matters but the Eating Disorder and Me.
I'm sorry for posting three times in one day, but I had to express how I felt. I'll skip my post tomorrow to make up for it.