My doctor calls it disordered eating. My therapist called it anorexia with bulimic tendencies. My parents don't understand what it is at all. I call it control. I'm a calorie restricter, a laxie addict, a sometimes puker, a sometimes former cutter, a writer, a sister, a fuck-up of a daughter, but I'm never, ever, just me.
Monday, July 23
life
is the short gasp of air before the eternal asphyxiation. its the moment of darkness in that refreshes looking eyes. its the silence between heartbeats.
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