I enter a room-people stare.
Did nobody have manners these days?
It's rude to stare.
I hear people whispering behind my back about me.
Does nobody have manners these days?
It's rude to talk about people behind their back.
I hear them calling me things like "anorexic, unhealthily thin, scary skinny, gross, disgusting, and a walking skeleton"
It hurts.
I always ignore the comments. They don't know my motives. They haven't got a single clue. They judge me, even if they don't know where I'm coming from. Everybody judges based only on appearances.
But now, I am fed up! I about had it!
I know I have a problem. I know it. I am fully aware of it. I have tried fixing it, but I always relapse.
Time after time again.
Recovery is too far away. Far too far away.
I am living in a daze, in my own little world; my fantasy has become my reality. My escape. 'Cause I hate the real world so, so much.
If only real life could be like a video game, where when it gets too much to handle, you just press the stop button and take a nice long break. But you can't just take a break in real life. In real life, people have expectations from you and obligations that you must fulfill.
If only real life could be a video game. Where you don't just get one chance. Where you get infinity amount of chances, and if you know you cannot win the game, you just exit out of it.
But what's the exit button in real life? Is it death?
In order for me to escape, to exit and escape this hell, I must die.
I'm almost there already. I can taste it. The bittersweet taste of death. Just a couple of more weeks of starving, of this malnourishment and emancipation , and I will leave this so horrible, terrible, cruel world.
And then I can start new again.