I am fragile and I hate it. Not only physically but mentally as well. I’ve lost all of my motivation to write and become an author. I’ve lost all my inspiration to think of new ideas and dream big. I’ve lost my hopes, and I’ve lost my barriers. I feel bare, naked…people watching me every single second of day to make sure I stay in tact with what I am ordered to do. It’s driving me crazy.
Anorexia has become part of me. A disorder that I cherish, an illness I never want to get rid of. It keeps me disciplined and in control. I’m sick of myself with what I have turned into. Sometimes, I wish the world could start over, and we could all be happy. All of us.
I’m very quiet and I keep to myself, a lot. I try really hard not to vent but now a days words seem to be flowing through my mouth little by little and it's uncontrolable. I’m sorry. It takes me forever to feel comfortable with one person. Even with the ones I'm close to, I still have doubts on whether I'm bothering them or not. I always feel like trouble.
I try and keep myself sane, though. I read over my stories that I use to write, in hope of my motivation to come back. I don’t know anymore… I miss my words. They use to have life.
I won't be writing for a while, even though I've been saying that for a year.
But please, wait. Wait for me. Just wait.