**TRIGGER WARNING- EATING DISORDERS/PHRASES THAT RELATE TO SELF HARM**

I'm uhh not in a great place but I'm all right and I just want to get shit out and onto paper you know. I need to do something to help with self harm/purging urges, so.

Isabele let her eyes wander down the mirror, picking apart every flaw she could find and drowning in them. Too fat, the voice her head small enough. She couldn't force her eyes away from her stomach. Pinching the fat, she swallowed and then dragged her eyes up to stare at her face. Too fat, the voice whispered. Too fat! toofattoofattoofattoofattoofat

Her hands reached and grabbed at as much skin as she could hold- too much. Every move felt awkward, every breath, every faked smile, every step. She felt uncomfortable in her own skin. Self conscious, super self aware of every move she made. It was pure torture and she wanted it to stop. She wanted to be thin, dammit!

She bit down on her lip hard, loving the sting. She inhaled the words her mind flung at her, breathed them in, and soaked them up. Let them take over. Gave up control only to regain it- in a deeper, intimate way.

control is the only thing that matters

Her thighs were huge. She didn't have a thigh gap and she so desperately ached for one. Ached to be pretty, to be tiny, delicate, gorgeous, beautiful, dainty, graceful. To have value, be worth something. She longed for control and the only way to have it was to let the hunger consume her.

pretty girls don't eat

She turned away from the mirror, too disgusted to look anymore. She opened her laptop to scroll through thinspo on Tumblr. These girls were perfection- this was what she was supposed to look like. The images were ingrained in her mind, burned into her memory the way a wildfire burned everything to the ground- impressionable and seemingly never ending.

you are worthless if you don't weigh less than those girls.

But she loved the feeling of hunger. She loved how in control and safe she felt when she held all the power in her hands. It was her decision to eat or not, to purge or not, to exercise or not. Her body. The only thing she could control.

controlcontrolcontrol

She pretended to love herself. She pretended she had everything under control, that her life was perfect, that she had it all. She lied. She had nothing, was nothing, would always be nothing.

There was a weight on her chest, holding her down. Preventing her from getting up. Every time she tried she was pulled back down. That weight tied her to her eating disorder. That's what anchors did- stopped things from being free. Her disorder held her captive in its cruel hands and she was powerless to stop it. So she gave in, to take back what little control she could obtain. Pulling in the control, shoving it down her throat in place of meals, feeding off the power.

let me in, let me help you, the voice whispered, let me give you everything you need

She craved the skeletal bodies, the ribs showing through, the collar bones sticking out. The thighs that didn't touch. The pretty faces with graceful features. The slender fingers, the sharp jawline, the small shoulders. The number on the scale reading 100. 99. 98. She needed the pain, the satisfaction the sharp pangs brought, the excruciating anguish the starving put her through. The elation, the high. It made her who she was. She was no longer a person; her eating disorder had become her.

If she could not have control, if she could not be thin, if she could not have what she needed, then she would rather be dead.

being dead is better than being a disgrace

Her head spun with all the food for thought her disorder fed her. She could no longer tell what was real or not, what was reality and what was a dream. Everything was a blur now, her mind muddled with thoughts about skinny and pretty and weightless and wonderful and lovely and beautiful and wanted and

and.

the voice grew louder with every passing second.

And she wanted to be everything she dreamed of. She wanted to be a goddess, a dream turned reality, a fantasy. She wanted to be wanted, to be longed for, to be needed.

you can be all of that you can you just need to be willing to whatever it takes and I promise you'll get everything you asked for

Her tongue had tasted the tip of paradise and she wanted more. How could she not fall in love with the disorder that gave her everything? Everything she needed to be, she could accomplish that, she just needed! to! be! in control!

control, the voice screamed at her. control. control. control. control, control, control.

It never stopped. It never fucking stopped. Nothing ever stopped.

Until suddenly it did. She stumbled to the ground, momentarily paralyzed by dizziness and thoughts that wouldn't stop screaming, screaming at her to get up, move, don't you dare stay still, you're not this weak, you're fine, you're fine, you're fine!

dizziness means progress

Her hands shook, her vision got brighter as she pulled herself up. Steady. She blinked and then she was fine. She wasn't skinny enough to be in danger.

you'll never be skinny enough to be in danger

She turned towards the mirror again. She could have it all. She would have it all.

you're too fat

you don't matter

you're worthless

you're huge

you're not allowed to eat

you weigh too much

stop, she wanted to scream. It was too much. But her lips were frozen, locked shut, and her disorder held the key.

too much

too fat

never enough

the voice slowed

you'll always be worthless

"I'll always be worthless," she whispered. Eyes glued to her body.

I'll always be too fat

I don't deserve to eat

I deserve the pain

I need the hunger

Was it you or I? Was it both? They blended together. She no longer knew how to tell.

I deserve this

this is the right thing

I need to be skinny

Her eyes dropped to the floor.

I need to be weightless

I don't matter you don't matter we don't matter

The voice was her own.

thanks for reading! please please please drop a comment and tell me what you thought! feedback is really really appreciated, not to sound desperate haha (I am) hope this made sense, I'm v tired.