Might be triggering to read. You’ve been warned.
I want to kill myself sometimes,
Thoughts of self destruction and self harm fill my mind without prompting.
On one hand, I understand. On one hand I’d be pleased if my body shrunk, thinned, weakened. Frail and tiny as I once felt.
I’d understand the peace that might overtake pain and ache. The euphoria within dread. The happiness of no longer being capable of disappointing anyone.
But at the same time I am, as is completely normal and expected, a bit disturbed by that.
1 because the idea that my body is not fine the way it is, it’s simply wrong and tremendously toxic.
2 I am very content here, in my home, surrounded by people who care for me regardless of what happened yesterday or however many days ago. I don’t want to leave them. (I pretend that I do not fear the thought of death and the afterlife and all that I don’t think I can fix).
3 I still want to cut myself. But my standards have risen and I only resort to scratching in the most dire times.
In conclusion, I will never develop an eating disorder, no matter how terrible I may feel about myself sometimes. I love food too much along with the workings of my metabolism (my blinding youth).
Besides I’ve already exited the world of expectations I built for myself. I’m not in the dating game where u try to appeal to each and every person. I’m just doin hw and living as much as possible.