I saw my psychiatrist today and he encouraged me to keep holding on. But inside of me, I’m going to be insane. I want to cut or burn so badly. Feel the pain. See the blood. Transform the pain of my mind to physical pain. I always hope the physical pain will erase the pain of the soul. But I’m always wrong. It works for some minutes, then I realize what I’ve done, and I feel worse than before I hurt myself.
I wish I’d never put a blade on my skin.
It’s like a hole in my chest.
It’s like I’m always looking for something I’ve lost many years ago. I don’t know what exactly it is. Something like affection. Something like love. This hole hurts me so much that I take strong medications (codeine, tramadol, anxiolytics, sedatives…) even if I know it won’t solve the problem. It only makes it worse.
One of my closest friend suffers from bulimia since she’s 14. She’s currently 20. She has a boyfriend for 1 year and half, and their relationship is serious. I really admire this couple because they accepted each other with their differences, their troubles. They take care of each other, they find strengh in each other. They look so bright together, so lovely.
And I’m always wondering how it feels to be loved like this. To be loved despite my eating disorder, my anxiety, my scars, my pain. How it is to be so intimate with someone.
It’s when I’m alone, laying on my bed at the middle of the night, desperately seeking sleep, that his hole become deeper and deeper. I have to say, I need love, I need people, my friends, my family, I need they say “I love you”. I need to know I’m alive, I’m important for someone. I need to feel love. I need someone who take care of me like I take care of my family.
But my mouth stay close, because I don’t want to annoy anyone, I don’t want them to think I’m weak, like a poor scared child.
Inside of me, I’m convinced I’m not good enough. I’m convinced it’s normal if people leaves me, because I’m worthless.
And everyday, I have these two voices inside my mind. The first one is begging for love, the other is yelling that I’m a fat, idiot girl who deserve nothing.
Please, love me.
And I ended up in tears. My life is awesome.
My mother is afraid that I lose 45 pounds as I did 3 years ago. She almost cried when she took me back to my flat.
I’m a true piece of shit.
I’m going to take my meds and sleep.
Forever. Please ?
I can see my collarbone and my chest bones again. My clothes are too large for me.
My family noticed it and cast reproach upon me. I did not deny. It was useless.
I would like to say I am sorry. I am really sorry. Sorry for the worries and the anger.
I would like to say that I have no choice. I cannot eat, I have to lose weigh because I am too fat. I am a pig. A fucking ugly pig.
I would like to say I need to control everything.
I would like to say I am scared of myself. I am scared of everything.
I would like to say I do not know what to do anymore.
I would like to say “help me, I am lost.”
But they do not listen to me. They do not believe me. And I will not say anything. I can bear the weigh of their sadness, their despair, their pain, all those things they tell me. But I cannot bear my own weigh. My own sufferings. And they cannot too. So, I keep my mouth shut. I do not want to hurt them even more.
I feel like I am so far away from everyone. From everything. I feel so alone, but being with people make me ill at ease. I am really dumb…
I am sorry, but I think I will keep losing weigh. I am sorry, it owns me. I am sorry, I am worthless. I am sorry for being here.