The War Against Myself

     Writing this is someone difficult and its 4am but I feel like I need to purge these thoughts. I am reluctant to say I have a disorder because to be honest I don't think I do...yet, but if this continues I know I will lose myself to this side of me. I feel like I'm on the edge of a cliff and one little gust of wind will send me into the depths below. 

     I can't remember the exact moment I decided I was ugly and fat. The thing I can remember is the moments that contributed to this fucked up mentality. Beginning with my mother constantly calling herself,the women on tv, and most of all my sister "fat" "heifers" and "disgusting".Then came the long time "best friend" who used me as her personal dart board, knowing where to throw the darts that hit just the right pressure points, as well as using me as a an example of what not to look like during her Eating Disorder. Constantly making sure to eat less than me, weight less than me, and remind me of this fact if not consciously than physically with her 5ft 11in frame and bones protruding through her skin. The boy who I would've died for, and almost did in years to come, that chose her over me on multiple accounts, and the many boys who fell suit after. I remember I time I used to be able to swat away these thoughts like little gnats, but now they aren't gnats, they are swarms of bee's stinging and living scars. There are days when eating becomes a chore something that has to be done to survive.

     When I look into the mirror I see my protruding stomach,my large thighs, stretch marks,ripples of cellulite even thinking about it makes me shudder. I claim to not have a disorder because I dont act on the thoughts. I dont purge through exercise,laxatives or throwing up, I dont count calories or weigh myself daily and dont think I've lost a lot of weight. Part of me is mad at myself for that, screaming "You coward, why cant you do these things. You are a goddamn coward that will die alone and fat." I enjoy food, I love to cook and go out to eat but I dont enjoy guilt. I don't enjoy the disgust with myself as I ponder what I just ate and how much I need to work out. I have tried working out but fear it will become an obsession, like it did for my "best friend". I look at pictures of girls with bones poking out of  their bodies and sick sallow faces and a voice says "This could be you if you don't stop this crazy thinking right this moment." but another voice says "This could be you! You could be model skinny! See every collar bone, no more jiggling thighs!". The fighting between these voices exhaust me to the point of becoming physically exhausting making it easier to just sleep away the guilt.

     I hope one day I can look at my body and see the beauty in it, the curves and find them beautiful instead of grotesque. I hope to be able to look into my eyes and generally feel like I am beautiful, that I should walk with pride. I dont see that happening anytime soon. I will just keep being trapped in the tornado of my thoughts, slowly becoming more and more obsessed, until it either consumes me or I finally win the battle against myself.