The tears keep falling.
Getting a grip on all of this... is impossible.
My Family, My friends, My boyfriend.
I lie to him. I lie to them. All for what?
I have no reason for the lies that I tell.
Where I'm at. Who I'm with. What I do. Who I talk to. What I eat.
Why do I feel like it's worth it?
When did it get so bad?
I feel so undeserving of anything that will make me happy.
He deserves someone he can trust.
Someone who doesn't disappoint him on a daily basis.
Someone he can hold close and will make him as happy as I know he could be.
Someone... so unlike me.
This is it.
Food has completely taken ahold of me.
Ana is officially what I live for.
I feel so absolutely selfish.
And maybe I am.
Hell, I know I am.
I choose to break the trust of everyone who cares about me,
because I want to be thin.
I'm choosing looks over love.
How conceided is that?
The worst part is.
I know I'm not going to stop.
No matter what they say.
I'm here for Ana.
They want to believe that therapy will help.
They want to believe me when I say that I ate.
They want to believe that I'm getting better.
I feel so undeserving.
So I push it all away.
I get angry at myself for allowing myself simple things EVERYONE needs to survive.
I hit 120.
I was proud.
And then, In an instant...
all of these feelings of guilt came up and I just broke.
Is making it to 105 really worth risking the love of everyone who cares about me?
I feel like this disease is making me callous to this place.
All I want to see. All I want to feel. All I want to taste.
Is weight loss.
Anything else is second priority..
And I hate myself for that.
I've completely given myself to Ana.
This self-destructive disease is too much for me to handle alone.
Ana. Please help me.
I Need You.
I Love You.
Take me in.
Let me stay.