I will never be enough.
It's because I'll never be good enough.
That's why I have to keep going.
I want this to consume me again. I crave the consistency of counting calories and seeing bones.
Bones are beautiful. Fat is repulsive.
I met a girl from church, and she told me she used to be bulimic, so I did what I never thought I would ever do, I told her about me. Not everything, but enough. Someone knows.
I have no idea if that was just a stupid thing to do because she will know what I'm thinking every time our group goes out to dinner and all I get is a diet coke. Its not something anyone else can understand.
When I look in the mirror all I see is me- in a body that is not who I am on the inside.
When I think about who I am inside, I know I'm pretty and average size.
When I look at reality I am constantly disappointed and disgusted by what I see. I want to be that girl in the picture with those bones. I will have collarbones again.
It's gotten to the point where I cant tell the difference between my thighs and my ass.
I can make it all ok again. This is the one thing I can decide to have control over.
It's all on me to do.
I will sacrifice myself to be myself.
It stops now. Yet this is also where I start again.
Goal 1; 21 sit ups per day.