I debated posting this. But I think I need to just get it out....
I'm in a bad place. A place full of extreme self-loathing. And I'm going to rant.
Yes, I am well aware that I am not worth anyone's time. This has been a constant in my life for as long as I can remember.
Oh I'm sorry. Am I being melodramatic?
If you could see the things I'm thinking of doing to you, you would have heart failure while bleeding out of your eyeballs.
I'm not sure exactly to whom I'm addressing this. Perhaps all of them. Perhaps just a few. Perhaps just one at a time. It's all the same in the end. What I'm saying is that I don't care if you think I'm being melodramatic. You never wanted to listen to begin with; I can't see why any of you would choose to listen now.
[I don't mean you, my followers. I mean all the Yous I can't actually address.]
I suppose it's a bad sign when not even your parents want you.
Yes, we can laugh about it now--how funny it was that Mich's first language was Jamaican Patois, that she didn't lose the accent until the end of the first grade. And then that funny accent she has now, the one that's gotten stronger some years, weaker in others. The hybrid accent of one who has spent too long crossing the ocean over and over again, shunted back and forth between parents, step-parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, nannies. Never long enough to get really comfortable. Never long enough to know what Home really means. Never long enough to know how to really relate to other people.
And actually connecting with other people on an emotional level? That's almost funny.
I'm so tired.
And Fat.
Stupid.
Ugly.
Worthless.
I can't sleep. And when I can, it's only nightmares.
Awful, violent, soul-crushing nightmares.
I can't do this anymore.
Screw recovery. Let the demons have me. All of them--Ed, Ana, Asp, the knives and the fire. At least I know they won't leave me. And I take great comfort in the fact that they might kill me before things get worse.








