I don’t know how to pretend I’m fine anymore.
I’m not; I just thought maybe it’d be better if I woke up dead so I didn’t have to fight another day out with my own self today. Let alone the arguments that occur with people around me, that make me doubt my conscience and question my beliefs.
Woke up dead? What kind of a thing to say is that. I mean didn’t wake up at all.
I can’t put on a brave face when I’m mentally withering into and old, decrepit beast who is ugly, lost, and alone. Blind and deaf. Numb. Wasting. Crumbling. Afraid. Sat in the corner of some dark dank cave, waiting for the sun to shine some light but thinking maybe it will never break the barrier of this rock hard prison wall. Dampness soaks me into a cold, isolated, crying creature. And it’s so, so dark. I’m not human; I was once but somebody has cast a spell and now I’m just a monster, transformed by illness. Once I stood outside, with all of you, looking happy and having every ounce of dignity that a human deserves.
Now i am sat here. Locked away, too scared to walk outside because everyone will see the true monstrosity that I have become. So alone, why can’t someone find me here in the corner of this rotten cave, and tell me it’ll be okay, tell me that if I go outside I will become a human again? The lonesome darkness has killed me more and more until i am nothing but a wreck. A human shipwreck. The mold that lines the ageing walls begins to eat me too now.
I can hear the echoes of happiness spill through the distant entrance and they make me wither further into myself, because I believe that those voices are something i can never achieve and never be part of again.
I am describing to you my spirit. It is dying, it is withering, it is nothing anymore. Anorexia and bulimia have destroyed me. I want to tell them to move on. please leave me before everything is gone.