Sunday, August 1, 2010


I've gained 10 pounds by force, since you've been gone.

The rest, I have no one to blame but myself.

Depression? Possibly.

Lack of self control? Probable.

Not caring anymore? Unlikely, but maybe.

When I was with you, I felt so in control. I was strict. I was serious. You made me want to be better, always attempting to progress, but still never being good enough. You brought out the best in me, something that made me unhappy but happy all at once. I was happy. I actually started accepting myself, I actually unbelievably started liking myself. But in some ways, you weren't good for me. You made me worry too much about the things that weren't that important. They meant everything to me, yes. But were they what my mind needed to be thinking about 99% of the time? Probably not. Did I care at the time? No.

Question: Where did it all go?
There was something that always made me love being with you. It wasn't the holding hands, or the spending time with you part, though that was definitely something to think about. But, when all was said and done, I loved the fear you gave me about how much I wieghed. I worried constantly wieghing anything over 100. It was a hell no. It was an absolute H to the E to the LL no. The thought of weighing 100 pounds made me tear up, it made me angry, it made me depressed. I resisted food, thinking of only how I needed to be if I truly wanted to stand next to you. At this body mass, I was okay with myself. I wasn't great, but I wasn't horrible, and I had finally started to accept it. But then, things happened, and I had to start gaining weight. I was terrified of what you'd think, of if you'd love me 5 pounds heavier. The thought made me sick. I couldn't deal with it then and I still can't deal with it now. But you did leave. Not because of my body, but because of that night. I had to break up with you. But when you were gone, I didn't have anyone to think about before I put an article of food in my mouth. I answered to no one but myself. With the pain so great, food was all that seemed to help. It was comforting. But here I am, weighing 20 pounds more than I did when I was with you. Nowadays, I can hardly look at myself in the mirror without wanting to hide in my room, hidden from anyone who might see me. I can hardly stand myself alive. I should be dead. I want to be.
I don't want to go back to school looking like this. I won't. I can't face the people who remember me thin. What will they think of me?
The thought only adds to the hurt of losing you.

Maybe, I should look into home schooling...

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