When I decided that my eating disorder was gonna be my suicide, everything else diminished. Became less important somehow. And I can't see myself alive in less than a year. I shifted priorities, death and thinness competing over the first place. I can never get tired of my eating disorder, it runs in my blood now. It rules me, it owns me. And I have nothing to say about it.
Control. They all talk about ED's and control and I get what they mean. This way I can control my life and death. I decide when I go out. My life, my death, my choice. The only thing that could stop me is if I'd get literally force fed. That's the only thing that could "save" my life. I won't start eating healthy again, not ever. I'll live on my max 500 calories a day for the rest of my life, if I don't stop eating entirely.
My heart already raced once today, but it was only briefly and likely cause I thought of something upsetting that I've now forgotten. Would have shared it if I hadn't. I miss being able to watch movies, read books, draw, play WoW. I miss living my sad and empty life. Now there's not much I can do, only write, listen to music, hang out online and occasionally talk to people. Barely go to school, lie my ass off to keep my eating disorder and death wish secret.
My life feels so empty, pointless yet filled with emotions and meaning. It's all inside my head. I gaze inside and see an entire universe. Outside it's all grey and dull and nothing happens. What a contrast, I think I need it. A teacher of mine told me the other day that I don't seem to know myself pretty well. Oh, how wrong he was. I think I know myself far better than most people know themselves. But it's hard showing that at the same time as I keep my secrets hidden. I must seem very confused about my current state of mind there.
Maybe I should just straight up say that yeah I'm feeling like a walking disaster but I can't say why. Then maybe they'd somehow understand. That something is indeed weighing me down, and keeping it a secret weighs me down even further. I should talk to F again, tell her more about my eating disorder thoughts. Perhaps, I think she could, understand me on some level. If only I gave her a sodding chance.
It's mostly about that. Giving people the chance to understand me. Eventually some of them do. I know I have a way with words, I'm good at explaining my thoughts and feelings. It's almost like a gift, except that it's something I've learned over the years, and not something I was born with. I could, potentially, make anyone understand me just by using my words. It is very practical, but it totally drains me.
Sometimes I just don't have that kind of energy. I know most people could never understand me on a deeper level, but when they say they recognise themselves or know someone who's been through the same thing, I think at least a part of them can understand. I wouldn't be fishing for attention, or advice, I just need someone to talk to that won't try to put me in a hospital. My mother and my shrink would, the crew would just never stop asking questions about it if I so even just slightly opened my mouth.
And I like F. We have some things in common even though we don't even share the same diagnoses. I believe she has a lot of life experience, she has lived and learned from life. It's something that I admire in her, but I don't put her on a level above myself. More like we're equals, even though we've taken such different paths in life. Her ambition and stamina are hard to not admire.
I do admire people who have gone through a whole life of struggles and then made something positive of their lives. They who have found ways to deal, to move on and let things be the way they are. People who are far from how I am, but not so far from how I've been. They usually have the best advice, the best intentions and outlook on life. I do not wish to become like them, but in a world where suicide wasn't a choice, I would have.
Perhaps I'm taking the easy way out, but in my world, suicide has always been the hardest decision. And to think, I've taken that decision 16 times already. But to give everything up, that has never been easy.
Then it's easier to just go on breathing and suffering. It's never been a hard decision to choose to get better however, because it's never been a decision at all. When you're so absolutely certain that you cannot ever get better, it's never an option. I'm pretty sure it has a lot to do with the fact that I've never been well. That I've never known what not feeling miserable could be like. How can I believe in one day feeling something that I've never once felt?
I have believed in maybe someday making my life livable or decent enough not to hate, but even that seems impossible now. With my curse and longing for Dala, with my asperger and eating disorder... I'm going down a dark and twisty road and I can't make a u-turn. It's too late, it's far too late and I'm too far gone.
All my tries have been futile, hopeless and never sincere enough. I don't hate being miserable, I actually find comfort in it and I believe that's the real reason. Cause I can't let go of my darkness, not enough to truly invite the light. The light is a foreign force to me, and I'm scared of it. All the demands it would have on me. That it would force me to be social, a useful member of society, to make progress and enjoy myself.
While in this despair, no one demands anything from me. I am free to come and go as I please, cause I'm mentally disabled and I am already doing as well as I can. Or, at least that's what I let people believe. That I'm trying, that is. I don't fake being mentally disabled. Who ever would?
Sometimes I do fake being worse than I am, not to gain sympathy, but to be left alone, respected and to remain free from those demands on me. It is my comfort, my only real comfort in this world. To blame my inability to cope on the headache or the anxiety. People say they understand me then, but I don't think they do, that I'd do anything to stay a useless member of society.
And maybe that's fucked up, maybe I really am that sad. It's my ultimate self defense against a world I can't stand living in. My way of retreating from what makes me uncomfortable, my way of seeking refuge. My refuge is my own apartment, the walls keeping me there. In need of LSS, allowance, psychiatry and medication... or just in need of escaping life?
I've done it for so many years now. And sadly, I think it started when I for the first time got a teacher that finally understood me and my disadvantage, my disability, when I was 11 or 12 years old. I knew I could get away with things already that early on. That teacher let me stay indoors during the breaks at school for whatever reason I can't remember, and I just used it to get away from my classmates who still were semi-bullying me. To get a chance to be alone and escape my responsibilities.
I've always been so manipulative just to escape this or that. Cause it's boring me, not fitting my high standards, cause it's a rule, or just because fuck it. Not surprisingly, I still do it and it's a habit I have no interest in breaking. No one ever really knew, because I actually do have my disability. And I've been using it to my advantage. Perhaps it's not so bad after all, making something useful about being useless.
And I only ever try to stretch my limitations when it's something that I truly want to do. I believe it makes me incapable of ever actually becoming better. That I'm not constantly trying no matter what, that I most of the time just say "fuck it" to myself and pretend that I'm having an extra bad day, just to get out of the situation.
I don't know why I'm telling you this, but yeah, reconciling. That, or I'm just venting what's momentarily on my mind. So yeah, I really am taking advantage of my situation as mentally disabled. If I had not ever done that, if I had ever wanted to actually get better, I have no doubt that my life actually would have been a lot better by now. Functionality isn't something that I strive for. I strive for a perfect down fall. I strive for death and to have lived an intense and interesting life. I strive for darkness, not for life.
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