BP 30/90

I faint a lot.

I’ve stopped eating much more than mother, chocolate and whatever R doesn’t eat.

I eat when I’m bored and then purge.

The skin is repulsion and I hate it and I hate myself.  I fantasise about carving it off my body.

I watch documentaries on anorexia for inspiration.

This noise in my head is relentless – I can’t go back there.  I can’t be that girl any more.  That 135kg monster  – I carry her all the time.



I need to sort this.

I am better than this – it’s control.  The numbers dictate my mood, but the rest is control.  And that fucked up brain pan that says he’ll stay if you’re pretty and he’ll like you if you’re smaller.


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