I'm just not here anymore.
I wasn't myself this week,
and I hate it.
And then there's you.
You can't let me go,
but you refuse to let me in...
I can't even say three words anymore.
You keep me around
because I'm all you know anymore...
I let you stay
because you're everything to me
and I don't want to let you go.
I know I'm letting myself fall,
I know I'm destroying myself.
I don't care anymore.
Love will be the death of me.
How tragically cliche.
How pathetic.
It's a constant struggle
between what I want
and what I believe.
What I think I should be,
and what I am painfully not.
I haven't eaten all morning.
My legs are getting thinner.
The fat on my thighs is starting to fade.
Finally. But it's still there.
It's still disgusting.
I haven't worn shorts in 10 years.
I'm too disgusting for that.
I would turn heads and stomachs.
I want to be able to go to the beach
and not feel like one of the blobs
people laugh about with their friends,
cringe, gag, laugh, point.
I want to go away.
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