Sometimes, it seems like nothing matters. No one cares. I feel like I'm invisible. No one can see me, because no one is looking. I lasted five days without any food, and I would have lasted longer had I not been forced to eat. They didn't know they were forcing me. They didn't know that through every bite I felt like crying.
They know the despair I felt when they surprised everyone with a desert immediately following the dinner. My stomach felt like it was going to break, bile rose in my throat as I tried not to be sick, and I tried so hard not to cry. I purged desert, but by then, it was too late for dinner. Since then, I've been on a downward spiral.
In the five days I lost nine pounds. I gained one more after that meal.
I haven't felt hungry. I haven't wanted food, but it has been there, and for some reason I've just put it in my mouth, not caring.
The first time I did it I was trying to be normal. I scare my boyfriend and it makes me understand just how screwed all this is. I tried so hard. I ate about 800 kcals and I sat on my hands for over an hour, waiting for the ticking purge time clock to stop. Run over time.
I cried after that.
Before that fateful meal I cut myself. I haven't in ages, and I did it the deepest yet. It bled into my sleeve and I had to hide my arm under the table as I ate because I was so scared that my family would see the blood.
When I was eating my 'normality meal', I was so happy. I could finally feel food I had chosen sliding down my throat, and I was proud because I was happy, eating, and finally being like everyone else. I got to the last few bites, and wanted to spit it onto my plate. It felt dry in my mouth and I wanted to run to the sink and purge it all up. I could see every tiny bit of food, lying in my stomach like something from a horror movie.
I forced myself to finish the meal.
I don't even remember when I got so bad.
I was never afraid of food, ever. Now...I don't understand what is happening to me. I was better off with bulimia, because at least I had a pattern. At least I wasn't afraid of food and fat.
Where did everything go so wrong? So many questions need to be answered. Why did I start dieting at ten? Why did I starve myself at thirteen? Why am I so afraid of food?
Why am I still fat?