I haven’t cut in six days, and I haven’t skipped a meal in three.
You should be proud of me (:

Do you know how hard it is to fight yourself, when you are your own worst enemy? When half of you wants this, and the other half doesn’t because it knows that its wrong?
How it feels when you can’t even trust your own brain anymore? How every time you choose not to eat you wonder if you’re really not hungry or if the ana is just making you think that?
How whenever you feel sick to your stomach and don’t eat you wonder if you’re really sick or if the ana is tricking you so you don’t eat?
Do you know how hard it is to know that one half of your mind is bent on destroying the other half? to know it would be so much easier just to give in?
Do you know how hard it is to eat? How every time you lay down you have to resist the urge to trace your hip bones as they jut skyward?
Do you know what its like to look in the mirror and want to cry when you see your face looking back at you, because there are so many things wrong with it?
Do you know how hard it is to let people tell you your skinny, when all you want to do is scream at them to shut up, because skinny isn’t all you are, you could be so much more.
do you know what its like to have people tell you you’re beautiful, but look in the mirror and feel disappointed because nothing has gotten better?
To avoid any reflective surface so you don’t have to look at your own face?
How hard it is to keep your nails short and your fingers off the razor when all you want is the sight of your own blood?
To wonder how much it would hurt to slice off the tip of your finger when you’re making dinner? To wonder if it’d be worth it to feel happy for that ten seconds?
How about how hard it is to know that your scars are the only beautiful thing about you, but at the same time know they’re uglier than you can stand?
How awful it is to hate your veins because they keep your blood contained?
How horrible it feels to be a failure at everything?
To know that you can’t even fail right, because a real failure would cut and starve and have no problem with it?
To know that what you want most will hurt the people you love most, but still want it so desperately that the ache is so loud you’re surprised people can’t hear it inside of you?
How horrible it is to know that your whole life is a lie, and the you everyone sees doesn’t really exist? That she died a long time ago and no matter what you do the bitch just won’t come back?
Do you know how it hurts to know exactly how weak you are? That there are people suffering so much worse than you ever will? Do you know what its like to feel shame at your pain, because others have it worse?
What about how it feels to be terrified to open your eyes, because everything you see could be a trigger, and set you off again?
What its like to have no control over your life except whether or not you should starve and cut?
What its like to forget how to be happy?
You’ve never felt the way I have mom. And you and dad never will. Be thankful for that, and don’t talk to me anymore.

In this book I’ve read a couple times, there’s this woman named Nora. Her best friend is Patrick, and he’s loved her for a very long time. But Nora never knew, and she’s married to some one else. In one part of the book, Patrick is thinking about how Nora and her husband have a king sized bed, and how dumb that is, because if Patrick was married to Nora they’d sleep on a twin, on a cot, so small they’d have to hold each other close all night just to fit. That’s how close he’d want to be to her.
Every time I see that book, I remember that part and think of you. Patrick’s thoughts sound like something you would say

vegan-because-fuck-you:

You’re against this:

But not this:

You’re against this:

But not this:

You’re against this:

But not this:

You’re against this:

But not this:

That’s fucking bullshit. If you eat meat DON’T YOU DARE SAY YOU’RE AN ANIMAL LOVER AND YOU’RE AGAINST ANIMAL ABUSE.

I miss you so much right now.
You have no freaking clue how much I miss you.

Do you know why I started cutting?  It was on December 31, of 2010.  New Year’s Eve.  My parents had just pulled me out of South Pacific and the college classes I’d signed up for, and taken away my dance classes.  I was so angry.  You wouldn’t believe how angry I was.  But I couldn’t do anything about it, and that was the worst part.  I had to accept everything, the fact that I wasn’t going to be leaving my house for at least two months and the fact that I had to pretend to be happy about it.  I sulked in my room for an hour or more, trying to figure out what I should do.  And then it came to me: cut.  I’d never done it, never thought about doing it, but I knew then that it was what I should do.  Because what better way to get back at my parents than by hurting myself?  Because I knew it would hurt them.  Even though I never told them, even though they still don’t know, I knew that every cut was my revenge.  Because if someone loves you, and you hurt yourself, then the people that love you will hurt too. 

But I never figured you into the equation.  I’m not sure why, since you were (and are) almost always in my thoughts.  But thoughts of cutting and thoughts of you were like oil and water in my head, and I kept the two far away from each other.  But the other night I finally realized that every time I hurt myself, hurt my parents, I was hurting you too… And now I feel so stupid and selfish and awful for not realizing it before.  I never wanted to hurt you, but I did, and I did so many times…

So I’m going to stop. I know it’s not that easy, because addiction is never as easy as just stopping, but I’m going to do it.  Because while I have no problem whatsoever with hurting myself, I do have a problem with hurting you.  I’m not going to cut.  I’m not going to burn.  And I’m not going to starve, either.  And even if that throws me back into the depression like it has before, I won’t go back to self-harm, because I’d rather be depressed then hurt you any more then I already have. 

I’m not saying I won’t slip up a few times; in fact, I’m sure that I will.  But I won’t turn back to it and embrace it again as I have in the past. 

I’m sorry for hurting you.  Because it was never, ever my intention.

I love you.