I’m so afraid

I don’t want my esophougus to rupture. Painfully suffocating to death on my own sick, jesus.

I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to think, I don’t want to feel, and so I eat, and sometimes I need to feel, to know I’m still alive even if it hurts, and so I eat. Then the shame of being such a fucked up, selfish, wasteful, ***** with no self-control opens up the endless black hole inside of me and I have to fill it (and empty it) again.

I don’t know if I can be helped, or even if I want it. I just know that I’m scared and I’m alone and I’m so, so very tired.

I wish they would just send me away, lock me up and throw away the key so  I can disappear in guiltless solitude.

-Selfishly Sad