Through the Looking-Glass

My mind is like a bleeding wound.

The blood - my thoughts - cannot stop run down, everyday, every night. And there is no bandage for this. 

Obsessional thoughts during the whole day, about food, about my weight, about cutting, about burning, about my potential fail at my final exams, about my family… Too many thoughts. 

And nightmares. Nightmares almost every night. I’m complaining like a child, but I swear it’s really painful and scary. I wake up once, twice, sometimes three times, and in these moments, I realized how I’m alone, and the fact is, it’s my entire fault. I mean, I push people away, I’m tired of talking. I’ve got to the point that I feel awkward and very unconfortable even with my closest friends and it makes me sad. I just don’t know how to have an intimate relationship with someone. 

And maybe I’m wrong, but it’s the fault of this fucking hideous body. I always feel so fat, heavy, ugly. I can’t look at people in the eyes because of this. I can’t barely eat in front of people. I can’t even do sport, because I feel too ashamed. Well, in fact, I can do nothing in front of people because I embarrasse myself. 

And now, it’s fucking 30 degrees celsius in Paris (86 fahrenheit) and I have to wear long sleeves because of my scars and my burn, and I really feel like a moron. I don’t want my friends and the people at my nursing school to see them because I’m sure my friends will change their attitudes and I know everyone will talk about it, and judge me. As a future nurse, you’re supposed to be benevolent and neutral, but, after two years and half, I understood that a lot of girls in my school are superficial sluts who care about nothing but themselves. And it disgusts me. How can they claim to care about the others when they talk about nail art, make up, or the sexual perfomances of the last guy they fucked during classes ? Seriously, sometimes I just want to punch them in the face and tell them to shut the fuck up. 

Well, once again, this post means nothing, and I’m going to bed. Sorry for polluting your dash. 

Let’s fucking hate everyone.

It’s just unbearable.

Why these horrible thoughts don’t go away ? Why am I constantly harassing myself ? I spend all my fucking days thinking about cutting myself, or how I look disgusting, how I’m such an idiot and a failure, and all this sadness, all this dread, angry, hate oh fuck It’s too much to bear and I know I said this a million times before but I can’t take it anymore. It’s too hard, and I can’t even cry, I tried but nothing happened. I hate myself for being so fucking weak, and I want to cut all this fat, see the blood on the floor and feel relieved, damaged again but relieved for a short moment. But if I cut, I will hate myself for not being strong, but If I don’t cut, I’m going insane. 

I want to give up so bad, and well, it will be not so dramatic, no one cares or the ones who know about my disorders think I’m completely retarded and they’re right. When my therapist asked me if I could take another appointment for the next week, I answered that I didn’t know where I will be, but nevertheless I added I took the appointment. And he said he felt reassured. And this, it pisses me off so much, because he acts as if he cares or worries about me but he doesn’t. I’m just another patient, just another fucked up girl with no brain who should go kill herself instead of annoying everyone.

I’m done. I’m FUCKING DONE. 

I’m sad. And tired.

And deep inside my mind, the voice whispers the word

“Suicide”.

It’s been a while I haven’t heard that. For the moment, it’s just a fantasy.

I’m so much sad. And I don’t know how long I will be able to live with the person I hate the most. Myself. I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m here, with that monstruous hate inside me. Hate erodes my mind a little more each day. 

I know my death may affect some people, but they will forget. We will be all forgotten after our death. 

I don’t know. A piece of shit like me shouldn’t be born. 

What I’ve done…

I didn’t realize until now how I damaged my body with my self harm behavior. 

After that friend who saw my burn and my scar on my arms few days ago, at my nursing school, today another of my friends saw the countless scars I have on my left shoulder. I was wearing a short sleeve shirt, but when I took off my coat, the sleeve was accidentally pulled up. I thought she didn’t see anything, but it was too late. She asked me what was that, and I said it was nothing. But I had tears in my eyes and I had to make a huge effort to not to cry. And she noticed it. 

And at the end of the afternoon, she sent me a message on facebook, asking if I am really ok. 

And I lied, as usual, writing everything is fine for me, except that the final exams are coming, and I’m a bit stressed, but like everyone else. “Don’t be worried” I wrote.  

I am such a fucking moron… I don’t want my friends to worry about me. I don’t deserve it. I don’t want people to know. I just want to be forgotten. 

Alone and sad tonight. Oh wait, just like all the other nights. What a great job I’ve done.

I should study. Just to forget how I’m useless and idiot (and fat, ugly… well, just good for the trash can). 

It’s like I’m consumed with hate and anxiety.

Everything pisses me off. People are so fucking morons. People talk too much. They talk, but what they say means nothing. There’s too much noise in my head, there’s too much noise outside, and it drives me insane. If only people could shut the fuck up, I’m done with their bullshits. I’m so done.

I’m exhausted because I study hard and too much. But it’s the only thing that prevents me to think about burning or cutting myself, or about food and my fucking disgusting body. I miss burning myself so much, it’s unbearable. 

Everything is too damn hard. I eat nothing or I binge. I sleep too little. I can’t take it anymore. I’m scared of failing my exams, I’m scared of everything. I tried to cry, to release stress and my others negative feelings but I failed. I’m stuck. 

And I beg for silence. 

Just me, being me.

My mom called me on the phone this morning, and tried to be nice to me. She asked me some questions about my eating disorders. She wanted to know how many bulimia crisis I made these last weeks, and she told me that if I needed to talk, she was here for me. She was worried because she never believe me when I tell her I’m not able to vomit, except if my body decides to vomit by itself, which is not quite often. 

She was so kind, and, like always, I pushed her away, I remained impassive and I said I had nothing to say. I didn’t want to talk about this with her. She can’t help me. And, like always, she said I have no reason to do this to myself, she said my life was not so bad compared to her own life. Blablablah. I know mom, I know. I’m sorry. I disappointed you, I hurt you, and you feel guilty because of me. You think you’re a bad mother. But you’re not. You did what you could, you did what you thought it was right. It’s just my fault. You try to be nice and kind, but I’m gone for a long time now. So don’t be kind with me, because I don’t deserve kindness, I only deserve contempt. I’m far away from everyone, and I don’t know how to go back. I don’t even know if I want to come back. I’m away. I’m alone with my own sick mind.

And I made another crisis. I cried and I sweared it was the last time.

Until the next one.   

Randoms thoughts tonight, again.

I’m constantly having this feeling of lack. It seems like I miss something, but I don’t know what. It distresses me so much, it’s like a hole in my mind. And maybe I try to fill it by eating a terrifiying amount of food, and not necessarily with foods I like. It can be anything. I remember one day, there were only pasta sauce and a big jar of gherkins in the fridge. I ate them. Once or twice, I ate raw meat and frozen dough. When I binge, I become completely insane. I can’t even quantify what I eat, it’s just crazy and scary. I hate this, God I hate this so much. Sometimes,  I eat until my body vomit by itself. 

Everyday, I am divided by that urge to fill that hole, that lack, and the desire to be skeletal. It’s a constant battle in my mind, and I never know which side will win. 

It’s almost the same thing when I cut or burn myself. I need to see the blood, I need to feel the pain, as if I miss her. I need to damage this body that I don’t want. I just want to puke when I look at the mirror. 

But, seriously, what the fuck is that shit ? I need something, I miss something but I’m not able to say what it is.

My mind is just completely fucked up. 

Randoms thoughts…

As usual tonight, my head is full of questions without answers, and I am arguing with that part of myself who spends her time trying to bring me down, trying to kill me slowly. You know, that voice who whispers that you are fat, worthless, good for nothing, that voice who whispers that you cannot be happy, no girl, not today, not tomorrow, never. That voice, she locks me up into my sadness and obsessive thoughts. That voice alienates me. Everything I perceive, everything I remember, everything I love, everything I learn is automatically ruined, wasted, tingued with pain and hate. Like a black and white filter. 

And here again, these 2 voices cannot shut the fuck up and I am sitting on my bed, looking like an idiot. 

I am wondering why do I think it is wrong to love oneself, why do I think it is a form of pretentiousness, why cannot I just be kind to myself ? Why cannot I just do it ? Everytime I try, the other voice is here, and reminds me that I am fucking disgusting and selfish. Everytime, I just feel the urge to cut. 

I am wondering why I cannot say I am not fine. I mean, not write it, but actually say it. Say I need help, I need support, I need a human presence. Why do the words stay in my head (when I find them…) ? Everything is so confused. I am acting like I don’t give a fuck and everyone thinks I have no feelings at all even though I am anxious and sad. I don’t know how to be authentic with others. I only know how to pretend and lie. 

I try to understand myself. I try to understand what is happening in my mind when I want to binge. I try to understand why do I want to be so scrawny, why do I want to cut, why do I hate this body so much ? And the more I damage it, the more I hate it. It’s a vircious circle. It never ends. 

Well, that’s done, I am terribly annoyed myself with these thoughts. The final question could be “why can’t I just shut up and be a normal girl ?”.

I am sorry, this post is nonsense. 

True story.

endless-diet:

I want someone to kill me because I can’t do it myself.