Ugh, I'm watching a stupid pro-ana documentary and I'm dying halfway through. What's wrong with people? What's wrong with me? I'm getting less and less pro-ana the worse I get. I just think it's sad to want a mental illness, but I do understand the desire to get that thin. I just don't understand how people who don't have an ED, who are healthy, can want to become skeletal.
115 hours now. Where did the 114th hour go? I've just downed my 7th glass of water. That's 1,4 litres for today. Gotta be enough even if it isn't. God I hate water. Wonder if I'll have a heart attack after this 5th energy drink... great. It's my 7th caffeinated drink for today and I'm not sure it will be the last one.
I'm feeling confused. Can't remember when I bought what and also I can't remember writing down the calorie content of my last cup of coffee in my book but obviously I did. Lately I've been forgetting to make sure I stay below my calorie limit. I just keep drinking things and writing them down but I don't check how far I am from my limit. My mind isn't what it used to be.
One thing that really did touch me in that documentary was one of the pro-ana's mother. How scared she was for her daughter. That really got to me. Also they featured young anorexics, meaning children. One was only 11 years old, but somehow that didn't affect me emotionally. I was just thinking about how much I recognise myself in their how they were thinking.
Something that really got me thinking was one of the pro-anas who was a little older, maybe 25-30 years old or so, it was hard to tell. She was apparently underweight with a BMI of 18,1 and the scary thing... I thought she was fat. Now that really messes with my brain. She had large breasts, wide hips and a little bit of a tummy and maybe that's what I was hung up on. If it wasn't for her breasts she would have looked a lot like me.
Or how I see myself rather. But she must have been really tall if she had that BMI at 62 kg. If I had that BMI, I would weigh 51 kg. Something is really disturbing about this. The way I'm thinking, how my brain is wired at this point. I usually don't think people at healthy weights are fat, so why did I suddenly think of an underweight person as fat? It goes against all kinds of logic.
I honestly would have guess her BMI was more in the range of 26-27. That's just so fucking surreal. Now I can't stop thinking about it. I feel horrible for even having those thoughts, but mostly I'm just scared for what I've let myself become. I get these moments sometimes, like "what the fuck am I doing, what the fuck am I thinking" -kinda moments.
Am I taking it too far, have I already taken it too far? Yes, yes and yes. I'm almost underweight now and I won't eat until I am. That is taking it too far, but I don't care. In my mind, it's the only right thing to do. Hitting a new lowest weight in the process. I am becoming my eating disorder. I let it twist and turn and fumble around inside me. Like a parasite. I let it thrive.
And oh boy is it thriving! I'm as idle as I can be, just nodding and accepting everything it throws at me. If it was an actual parasite it would be in heaven right now, I'm pretty sure. Found the perfect victim. Am I a perfect victim for an eating disorder? Already had bad self image and some kind of body dysmorphia, already vulnerable with other mental disorders, already self harming, already wanting to die half the time.
Tempting me with a thinness I've always wanted somewhere in the back of my mind, and with a sense of control I've never had. Become complete again with me, it says. And of course I obey to its every whim. But still aware of that it's all lies and flatter, a cruel joke that will kill me one day. I have nothing better to do, than to let it slowly tear me apart.
I'm at its mercy, letting myself be tortured by myself and this unknown force known as mental illness. Atypical anorexia, soon I won't be so atypical anymore. I've soon gone 5 entire days without eating, I can feel my mind warping into something unknown. Half the time I don't even recognise myself anymore, what I'm becoming. What I'm losing to this eating disorder, what it's doing, not only to my body but my mind and soul.
I'm staring into an abyss and it's staring right back at me. Maybe I gazed too far and too long. I let it change me. Please, I whisper, turn me into something else, I cannot stand to look at myself anymore. With time it changes me, whether I want it to or not. Did I choose my eating disorder? I gently ask myself almost every day now. I wanted anorexia the day I chose to lose weight, but is this really what I wanted? Was it a choice truly, or was I just prepared for the risk I took?
It's spinning madly in my head, the thought that I could have avoided all of this. It's clawing and cackling: suit yourself, suit yourself. If only I hadn't been so desperate to lose weight in the first place. But there's no regret and the thoughts aren't mine. I fear for my soul but not for my body.
It will wither and die either way, we all die of something sooner or later, I just happened to choose my death. Or did I? Back to the question whether my eating disorder was a choice or not. Maybe I didn't choose my thoughts and feelings, maybe I didn't choose to wish to become thin no matter what? Maybe the obsession wasn't a choice, but giving in to it was?
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