It sucks, my lack of self control combined with this anxiety that completely overwhelms me. That I just want to bury myself six feet under and stay there for the rest of eternity so I won't ever have to worry about food again. Maybe this is slow suicide, I don't know. But in that case I wouldn't care if it harms me if I fast again, would I? Maybe I don't.
Maybe I don't care if this leads me to an early grave, it won't kill me instantly. It will take months, maybe even years of disordered eating before I fall apart. Probably just months though. Cause if I continue to drop one kg a week I'll be dead before spring. It doesn't scare me, but it fills me with a sadness I cannot explain.
That I'm so desperate to become thin that I'd do anything, even starve myself to death. Most definitely that, it's my life now. I can't live in any other way, I've forgotten how, somewhere when food equalled fear and numbers became an obsession. I do restrict food heavily and started doing so in a fairly short time and when I fast I don't eat anything at all. And that goes on and on as I see the numbers drop on the scale.
I'm not sure, but I don't think there is a healthy way to reach lower numbers on the scale once you've reached underweight. I'm so close, I'm so fucking close now, just 3 kg away, just a heartbeat away. And I have nothing else on my mind. Nothing else at all and I wonder... I wonder if I lost my life when weight loss became an obsession.
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