People who live in the past....

...are people like me. 

I was comfortable in my skin. I was "normal".  I just wanted to be thin.
I went to bed on time, woke up early, did what I needed to do when no one was looking. I was controlled.

I'd go to be no later than 10; wake up at 4:30 stretch and get dressed by 5.  Yoga at 5 - 5:30. shower at 5:30 6: I'd get out and get dressed.  6:30 I'd leave for school and start class at 7.  I was perfect. I was ready. I was an "adult" I was 115.

I had about an inch left on my stomach that had to go and about an inch on my arms as well. I was so close..

I'd work out every morning and every night. I never ate quesadillas, fried chicken, chorizo, sliced cheese, greasy food, donuts, super sugary foods/drinks, or fattening things...

I categorized food and made it a point to eat the same or less as my brother who is 6 years younger than me and was like 6 - 13 at the time......


I was strong. 


That girl got swallowed by a drug addict who's guilty pleasure turned her rancid.  He bisexuality trapped her in a rut she'd never get out of.  So she became numb. She did meth. She smoked pot.  She tried coke.  She loved coke. Coke makes you pretty. Coke makes you skinny. Coke makes you perfect! I was becoming perfect. Until the money ran out. Then I'd binge and binge. I took boxes of laxatives in one week. I was dying. I could see it in my face. I had to go home. I to get out. My apartment was killing me.  So was my gf....but she loved me. I didn't love me. I couldn't love her.  I needed to leave. I was fat. I was gross. I was rancid I was uncontrolled. 

One day I was browsing on the internet and I found Ana.  She was pretty angry with the way I'd treated my body.  She constantly reminded me through dreams and flashbacks what it was like to perfect. I was perfect. She knew me when I was perfect.  She loved me when I was perfect. I loved me when I was perfect.  I loved Ana.  She was perfect. 

I look in the mirror and I'm disgusted. I can't look in the mirror without feeling shame. I hate my body. I hate my fat. I hate my disgusting breathing vessel full of smothering grossness.  No one around me REALLY understands the HATE I have for my fucked up body.  How could anyone want me? How does my bf sleep with me? How does he look at me? 

And compliments... Oh, fuck the compliments...

I'm sick of them.  I'm sick and tired of them all. I'm tired of people trying to convince me that everything is okay when it's not.  it's sickening...

I lie somewhere between doing it right and being stuck in the empty world.  I know what is wrong and I often get confused, but I can't stop. Not now.  I'm not close enough......

I'm never good enough....

It'll never be good enough...

I'm tired of being the failure everyone told me I would be. 

I deserved it.