Hi friends! I'm back and kicking! Why am I so upbeat on an Ed story... Oh, right. Because I want you all to smile, and stay in a healthy mental state.

This is far less angsty than Fade (in my opinion), and it's in a slightly better state of mind. I like to call this the attempting stage. The first story took place in March, 2017. This one takes place a few months later, around late October/ early November. So, present day. If you read this within a week and at no other time...

This is still about an eating disorder. That means it can be a trigger, for backsliding or anything else. If you feel you may be triggered by something like this, I highly recommend you click off of this story now and go read one of my happier ones. I am deeply concerned for the health of all my readers.

Disclaimer: EWW isn't mine. This is an angsty story. You have been warned.

It never ends.

Every single second of every single day is a battle in itself. You try to stop, at every meal. You force yourself to pay less attention to nutrition facts and more to enjoying food. You try to chew less and drink less and keep holding your fork. You binge on peanut butter and pizza and candy because it's Halloween, the hell are you supposed to do? But no matter how hard you try, it always comes back. You walk into the bathroom and you always end up on that damn scale, regardless of how hard you try to stay off it. Sometimes, you can't even explain how you end up there, because you don't know. But every time, it happens.

Everyone has known for months. Sometime in May you ran away from an intervention and while you were on that run you ended up passing out. Mrs. Miller had been there minutes before, and you didn't hurt yourself, luckily.

Ever since this started you've been up and down, up and down on the scale. You'd hit 103 and binging brought you up to 114 again. Once you start you basically don't stop. Ever.

Jax can't tell. You eat nearly 5000 calories one day, and the next few you run 'errands', which is your cover for fasting and a six mile run. And then you believe you burned it and everything is okay again. You eat 1500, and work your ass off, and then the cycle starts all over again. Endless.

Andi is getting suspicious again. You can't be on runs with Mia anymore, and coincidentally you started buying way too many items that were "dry clean only", yet never show the tags. You got better about your tricks, but she still knows most of the ones that people with EDS have, just in general.

You are so damn lucky it's stupid. You weighed 101 when you passed out that day in May. Another half pound under you would have been hospitalized, instead of put on a recovery plan. That you stopped following really quickly, because 2500 a day was literally making you sick to your stomach.

That blueberry smoothie saved your ass.

You want so badly to change. It's your biggest wish to be okay again. To eat three pizzas like Andi can.

But, just like she was the one that got sick properly, she's the one that recovered properly. You didn't do either right.

You have a hard time getting away with it. Jax forces you to eat four times a day, minimum. That's what happens when you live in the same apartment as someone: they can monitor you with less effort.

It would be so easy to give up.

Yeah, it would. But that saying is bullshit. For every ounce of effort you'd need at the start of a disorder, you have to double it at the end. Pulling yourself out of this is hard, and scary. Sometimes you think you've done it, and it's those days that being content feels more like being numb and you work your ass off exercising because you need to feel something.

This is vicious. You want to scream, cry, run, do anything you can do to feel. At one point ot was about the scale, but somewhere along the line that became less and less important. You don't know what it is anymore: control, the numbers, or fear of not caring anymore. But something continuously sends you reeling back to the start.

You don't even have to try to figure it out. The calorie count of everything is an automatic reflex. You just, do it without even trying. It fucking terrifies you to know that even when you don't know you know.

It's always at least enough daily exercise to burn off a thousand calories, daily. Walk a mile, run two. Squats and jumping jacks and burpees are such an integral part of daily life you're used to the soreness.

You are trying so hard to get better. You don't want to get hurt, or die, or whatever the heck else can happen to you. Every fiber in your being has always wanted a family, and this thing could take it from you. But now, you binge right around that time of the month, so it won't happen to go away.

This is so hellacious you wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy. The lack of sleep, the exhaustion that you can't feel, the hunger that doesn't really come, it's all tough. Try, try, try. That's all you ever hear, whether it's when Jax gives you food or Andi asks you to talk to her about this. You want to suceed.

You don't.

The memory of when you had a panic attack over a number is still fresh in your mind. You were in some algebra class, and it mentioned food during a word problem. Specifically, a word problem about a meal exceeding 2000 calories.

It was only words. It was easy as hell to complete. But, you couldn't make it happen. You freaked out, and your head automatically sped up a thousand miles trying to figure out how you were going to burn it off. Which, what a surprise, got you sent to the nurse over shakiness. It was before anyone knew, so telling her it was just stress from school got you out of it.

That is the only time you were ever glad Lily had to be replaced. One look at you, and she would have been able to tell you lied, and probably given you truth serum. Which had god knows how many calories in it.

Every once in a while you get caught doing ED things. Small ones, but they're there. Refusing snacks at a party, always eating lunch in situations where you aren't with the group you tell about it. Your friends and your family have taken care of you for months, and they let it slide. Ando always insists that she still feels the occasional pull toward a relapse, and you need time.

Time, time, time. Numbers, that's all it is. More numbers to think about, to schedule your binging and workouts and your diuretics around. It's another thing you can't control, yet use to control everything at the same time. Maybe time is helpful.

Run, eat, sleep, cry, repeat. No way out, no way to get help. Just, a vicious cycle.

The only thing you can do is keep trying.

I hope that in some strange way you liked this! I love you guys. Review?