Im a fat b***h. I’m a fat failure. That’s what I am. A fat ugly horrible person. That’s me. And I hate it. I hate the person I am. I hate my life. I hate everything about me. The way I was in a relationship. The fact I’m alone. The the way I am the person Ive become. I wish it would be over. I bought tablets the other day as I had a headache but had to give the rest over otherwise I’d have taken them all and take yet another overdose. It doesn’t scare me. I don’t think it ever well. I’m So desperate for my life to be over. Or at least change. This weekend has been full of Unknown calories and it terrifies me. I’m dreading weigh in tomorrow. Dreading see the number on the scales. Pure dread. It will effect t my day so much of I’ve gained. And I know I have. I’m so desperate to lose weight. So desperate to see my ribs. For my stomach to cave in. Not stick out. To see a thigh gap instead of see them touch. To see my cheekbones instead of have a rounded face. I’m desperate to go back to how I was.
I sit here and wrote this and feel so alone. I know Facebook glorifies everything but I’m sick of people younger than me having the time of there lives. Having babies. Getting engaged going out partying. Whilst I’m stuck in hospital. My life on hold. And what’s worse is even when I’m out of hospital. I’m not going to be living. As anorexia will still be there and have hold of me. I’ll be restricting like mad. I’ll still be alone. I’ll still be the failure I am. I still won’t have a life.