this is the end

Had another panic attack. Literally could not stop crying at my appearance. Stupid shaking mess on the floor. Hitting myself. I got so fucking upset and started hyperventilating; I just hate myself when I eat. The voices rise up. Louder louder louder! Stupid little girl. You amount to nothing. You are a fat-wrapped body encasing rivers of calories and shame. Pathetic, weak, disaster. You fucking trainwreck. Get up off the floor and finish your crunches. Then what do I do? I dig my nails into my chest hard enough to leave red cuts and fling myself downstairs and binge. Trying to drown out the screaming with food - handfuls, spoonfuls. Until I am numb, my head blissfully quiet for a few moments. I sit on the counter and stare glassily ahead, knees drawn up to my chest. But I never get to be alone for long. The noise starts again, at first little whispers building to a dull roar coalescing into words, angry, hateful, poisonous. What have you done what have you DONE WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?!? STUPID STUPID STUPID! I HATE YOU, I LOATHE YOU, YOU LOATHE YOURSELF. LOOK AT YOU. You filthy slut. You repulsive, dirty little whore. You are going to get your period at this rate. You are going to bleed. You are going to get old and forget everything and become exactly what you hate. You are wasting your time - with food, with fat. Please let yourself free or I will tear you apart, you monstrous cocoon of flesh. You nightmarish blob. The fat is building up in your veins, in your heart, and you will never be free of it unless you change. LISTEN to me, you miserable wretch. STOP EATING. STOP THIS. You are going to get cellulite. You are going to lose the ability to walk; the flesh will pile up, more and more and more, until you die like your uncle. Take this control I offer you. Take control of your life. You repugnant failure, turn yourself around before it's too late. 


As always I feel horrible after. I feel hollow and used up. I have done something terrible. I am terrible, I am everything that I hate. Hate, I have so much of it. It builds up until I can't take it anymore and I have to hurt myself. And I am ashamed of myself. I loathe my reflection. Loathing loathing loathing ... I want to stop this ... stop eating. I am fasting tomorrow. I am jagged, all extremes: eat everything or eat nothing at all. It is rare that I manage to eat and retain my control, and those days are difficult ... walking the fine line, trying to keep my balance but always, always I fall. I tumble down into the dark where everything rots and decays and falls apart at the seams. I fall, I fail. But I am fasting tomorrow, I will be pure and clean and cold and it will be lovely beyond anything I have felt in a while. I know now that planning is a temporary comfort ... that letting myself believe that I can eat and still lose weight is futile, it is lies. I know now that the way, the only way, is to be savage and clever and take everything as it comes and find ways not to eat, because I know they exist. This will happen. It will be fantastic.