So sometimes I feel like I'm losing weight, I mean, I am. But painfully slowly. My mom would beg to differ. I guess everyone else sees something different than me. But last night I took a picture of me in my bra and panties. And all I see is a fat piece of shit. Did that digital scale really say 125 when I last weighed myself? It really can't be right. But the scale never lied before. I just feel like last year when I got down to 125 I was at least a little thinner. I could fit into my 0 jeans again. (Of course, they were kinda stretched from me wearing them all the time.) I guess I'm losing weight in different spots than last time.
My mom is constantly saying she is trying to understand me. Bitch please. That's not going to fucking happen so stop fucking trying! You don't have a fucking eating disorder. Get over yourself. I honestly don't care anymore when you say you'll never stop loving me no matter how much I hurt you and the rest of the family by hurting myself. I am so done with caring about my family. I have to force myself not to. Because if I let myself care, then I will feel like I need to give up my eating disorder. I can't do that. Recovery scares me, and so does the thought of gaining weight, even the thought of STAYING at this weight.
I am selfish I know. But I am keeping my wants higher than the wants of the rest of my family. They don't know me. They think they're hurting more than I am. Bullshit. No one knows how I fucking feel.
I would LOVE to be normal again. But I don't know how. I haven't been normal in so long.
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