Do you ever just sit and wonder. Like whoaw. This is me. I have an eating disorder. This is happening to me. Not to some character in a book or a movie. No, it is actually happening to me. I’m the one who is delusional. I’m the one who has a wrong perception of my body. It is me who can not eat without feeling guilty. I do not eat food, I eat calories and numbers. I am the one who kneels before the toilet and throws up after my meals. It is me who cut my skin open because I am suffocating in my own fat and flesh. The panic attacks are happening to me, not to someone else. I am the fat and ugly, disgusting and useless, pathetic failure of a human being.
And there is nothing I can do about it.