crash&burn.

You are the stars in the sky I stare up at and wonder how anything could be so beautiful.
You are the ground underneath my feet that keeps me from falling into the center of the earth.
You are the air in my lungs, making me breathe in and out day after day.
You are the heart in my chest, the vital thing at the center of my existence.
You are the sun shining down and making me warmth and happy.
You are my entire world, you’re my everything.
I’m scared to death for you, love. Maybe it’s that I haven’t talked to you - really talked - in a while and my sole form of checking on you is currently getting on your blog when I can. Maybe it’s that I worry about you no matter what. Maybe it’s that I think you’re having a really rough time right now.
I hope you know that I love you and I’ll always be here for you.
I’ve cried the past two nights over you. I miss miss miss you. I need to hear your voice. I need you to keep me strong. I need you to help me not fall apart.

I just need to lose a little. Just a little. Just enough to not feel like I’m choking all the time.
   I’m tired of feeling like I have to keep going. I’m tired of smiling and pretending I’m strong. I’m tired of eating my meals like a good little girl and only hurting myself when I really, really need it. Like today after shopping, stopping in the bathroom to draw shallow, swift lines across my thigh.
I’m tired of feeling like I’m filled with flies. I’m tired of hating so much. I can’t even describe how much it hurts to hate this much. To have to carry it, put out the effort to direct it, and be the receiver. I just want to lie down and give up. Recovery is a fairy tale. I don’t think it can really happen for me. I’m destroyed. People can say all they want that there’s happiness and light at the end of this, that I’ll smile easily and look at myself without cringing, but there won’t be any end, not for me.

Recovery is hell. Fucking hell.
Why the fuck did I ever agree to this shit? Because of Tiger, of course, but I can’t do this.
Every day when I do my bone-check in the mirror, it’s like a hideous version of my old routine. Lift shirt. Ribs covered in pale flesh. Suck in, still not there. Grab hipbones, but they’re receded into the skin. Look for the indent between the bones in my arm, but it’s gone. The hollow of my armpits that always made it near impossible to shave is filled in. Collarbones only slightly there. Jawbone melded in with the neck. .
I miss the cold. I forgot what a warm body is like. I forgot how terrible it is - throwing off the covers and opening the windows in middle of the night.

‘Slut’, single-edge razorblade, right calf.