July 27

I do not deserve to be living but I am far from being accepting of death. What would I be if I died in this terrible and obese state I am in? Who would want to bury this body I have made for myself? Who would want to even look at me?

I am suffering. It is all my fault. To be perfect is to be thin. My mind has mutilated itself day in and day out to be the way it is today, believing that happiness is thinness. BELIEVING, no longer thinking. My mind has mutated my thoughts into a huge web. I am no longer able to escape these claws. These terrible, long nailed, bony claws.

I am worthless today. Tomorrow will be the same. Until I can lay my head down at night and feel the pain that is mal-nourishment, I will be unhappy. I will be worthless. I will be pathetic. Living because I have no right to die, I will have to keep on going tomorrow until there is nothing left. Until I am empty. Satisfied. Eyes closed. Rushing pulse. Eat? To eat is to die.