Well, I'm still alive so at least there's that. It's bad. It's gotten so bad. Every time I have an anxiety attack or I fall into my depression, I have no other thought than that it would be so much better if I just died. I wouldn't have to fight anymore and I would feel nothing. This is terrifying to me because I do understand that my life will get better if only I reached out for help. I don't understand why I can't do that though. I am fully aware that "help" or at least someone to try to help me is out there, and all I have to do is ask for the help. This is as far as I can make myself write right now as I am seriously neglecting doing my school work. Hopefully I can get back to this soon and I can vent a little bit.
I've fallen into another pit. I for some reason put all of my self-hatred into the thought that I would be happier if my body was more attractive aka skinnier. I started restricting my calorie intake severely. I lost 7 pounds so fast in the first few weeks. My hip bones and ribs started to stick out like they did when I was in high school. I know I could've achieved a nicer physique just by working out and eating better, but this proved to be such a quick fix that I can't seem to let go of now. I am currently bloated. I know I'm only bloated because there's no way I gained all the weight back on when I have been eating less and less. I guess a part of me is kind of hoping that I'll just waste away. Maybe one day I won't have to eat anymore. I can't eat. Calories have become my #1 enemy. I talk to people sometimes, but I never really release everything. I can't. I'm fucking annoying and over-dramatic. No one wants to hear my stupid thoughts and see my emotional brokenness. I kinda just want to fade out of every life I'm in. People would be better off without me and that I truly believe.
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