I ate dinner again and it was thick, poisonous hatred and disgust that filled me; crushing my head and throwing me into a wall again and again. I had to get it out, and the feeling as if I had just injected hopelessness into my veins. I'm fucking falling apart, cowering on the floor of the bathroom next to the toilet; and it's not glamorous. It's not 'cool'. It's not fucking fun or pretty and everyday is so hard, every tiny fucking piece of food is an enemy. Every fucking glass of juice makes me sick. Even if I can emotionally manage to eat then my body is like, "fuck no what is this we have to make her sick cramps cramps cramps nausea vomit." This is what I mean when I say I cant eat. I physically cannot. I can have grapes, apples, lettuce and tea. Everything else just makes me sick... I am sick.
I am so scared that this will never get better. And I'm scared that I will always live like this; hunched over toilets or drains or bins or bushes; and I am terrified that I will never have anything to show for it. That I will always be this fat. That I will never be pretty, never be in control, never be happy.