You are my SISTER. You should be understanding.
Instead, you tell me that nothing is wrong with me?
And I am forced to bring up a professional diagnosis and an attempted suicide to end this argument?
How can you say that?
Representing my feelings in stupidly complicated ways.
Before him, I was empty. I was alone, devoid of light. Every day getting harder and harder to breath. I was sinking in an ocean of darkness…sadness.
Then I seen him. Its like my heart was stumbling over its feet as it was racing around in my chest. I winced at this unfamiliar feeling. My ears cried with joy as his warm, silvery voice flowed through me. His eyes grabbed me by the collar and pulled me to the surface. I could breathe again. But it hurt.
When he looks at me, its like my soul gets torn to pieces. I yearn for more.
He hurts me. Why does he acknowledge my existence? It only causes me more pain. My mind races with the thought of him. My heart won’t stop pounding. I can’t keep feeling like this. I just want him to myself.
He makes me angry when he notices other girls, other people. Why would he hurt me this way? Doesn’t he know that I already gave my heart to him?
I am his, but he isn’t mine.
I can only wish to be with him.
I need it all to stop.
He doesn’t know me, and I love him.
It Looked At Me
I stood in my doorway on a day
Nothing special, nothing the same
A crack, a flash
It created a grey war above
And dampened the ground
My vulnerable figure
The feelings were forming
In the pit of my stomach
I try to fight them
Where did they come from?
I asked over
I looked up at the waging war
The culprit at hand
And it looked at me too
I must shamefully admit, with my face shielded from the world, that my pain vanished, not in the form of capsules, but in the form of shiny metal. Though these deathly habits have burned out, I never stopped looking for something to replace it . Has the universe heard my pleas?
This time it was offered in something other than metal or capsules. This time it has come in the shape of man.
No love, no connections. Only lust.
Is this an offer I want to take?
Should I waste purity for a moment of peace?
Time is running out…
At a point in my life, I made the mistake of analyzing the bodies of other women around me. I looked at my sister and went through her clothes, wondering why I wasn’t as small and fit as she was. Then one day a thought was planted into my mind by a simple sentence my bigger sister said to me.
“I’m not going to eat for three days.”
I didn’t know that this thought would impact my life for years to come.
I first stood against that idea. I researched the bad things that come with not eating. It disturbed me. But with my mind in a place where it didn’t like what the mirror was showing, I conjured up some plans. I looked to a more healthy way of becoming much smaller but those never seem to work. I would always fail. Junk food always seemed to find its way into my hands. I started becoming angry at myself. Why could I never follow through? Why couldn’t I just lose the weight?
A few years pass and I was running out of hope. I was desperate. I was dating and I had finally gotten to middle school. I wanted to appeal to people but I also couldn’t stand the way I looked. Then that sentence that my sister had said to me before came and latched itself onto me. It couldn’t hurt to try, right? I was out of options, anyways! I even promised myself that I wouldn’t let it go too far.
So I did try.
And I liked the fast results it showed.
I didn’t stop. I challenged myself to more hours of starving. I made it a habit to look at the back of a package of food and drinks. I searched for people like me. I saw what they do to achieve they’re perfect bodies. I always looked into the mirror and was angry at the how the progress wasn’t showing as much, even reversing sometimes. I was disgusted. I couldn’t even bear to look at myself anymore without wanting to tear myself apart. I made the mistake of buying my very own scale. I was obsessed with the process of stripping down and stepping up onto it. Seeing the number decrease was like a drug.
I fell out of these deathly habits, however. Not completely, but it didn’t run my life like it did before. There was always a faint voice in my head telling me that I need to go back, that I need to lose it all again. Lose the weight. I was able to disregard it.
It’s growing stronger.
It hungers for…hunger.
After living with myself for years upon years, I figured out how much I can handle. I surpassed that limit long ago.
I started to succumb to the agonizing effects of depression and suicidal thoughts. I don’t try to fight it when it pushes itself into my mind, infiltrating my thoughts. It makes me lash out. I have become less than a person. I ruined a friendship with someone I have known for more than seven years. I fell out of touch with everyone else. But that’s good, right? I don’t have to worry as much when I pass on. Not that I will anyways. Worry. I will be dead.
I do worry, though. I’m not in a position where I think people don’t love my existence. I do know that. Which makes everything much harder. You can’t exactly lose connections with your family – when you’re me, anyways. I love them. I love them so much that I would rather stop breathing than to see them suffer. It hurts me when they come around. They hurt me. Why? Why does it have to hurt so bad? Why does loving someone hurt so bad?
I can’t stop thinking. I can’t stop wanting to kill myself. I want to die so badly but how? How can I finally do it without stopping, like I did in 2016? What if I fail again and I have to see the angry look in my mother’s eyes? My big sister’s eyes? It terrifies me. I’m scared.
Being scared of death and wanting nothing more than to embrace it is tearing me in half. These conflicting feelings grab me by the arms and they are only going to tug even stronger until I have to do something about it. But what could I do?
How do I overcome this fear?
When does it all stop?
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