TW: suicide, attempting and anorexia
As I sit here in a house that I'm forced to call a home with a family who I now see as ghosts, I cry quietly and uncomfortably about how easier life would be if I could just have an assisted suicide. I have attempted suicide before, and that was barely even a wake up call to the ghosts since they ignore the fact that it even happened. I just wanted to become ghosts with my family, even though I know I am now a walking ghost up here to them. Unfortunately, I am seen as an unfriendly and threatening ghost; a demon by those up here. Funny thing is, my health is what makes me the demon. What my silly, little, defunct brain puts me through to suffer, but have pride like the fall of Lucifer.
Dear all,
I don't want to suffer. I do not want to be this way. I am forced to live this way by barbed wire wrapping my brain like a warm hug from a familiar soul. I don't know when I'll be ready to pick the barbed wire off of it. It's going to be hard, painful, and slow and I really don't think I'm ready for the healing process of the wounds I will have from it, won't they scar? I'm sorry this was supposed to be my letter, not questions I have about wanting to heal.
I just want want to explain myself and what it really does feel like to live in a brain that is damaged badly. It might make sense to some, it will not make sense to all, but my mission is to explain what I go through so all of you can stop making it about your damn selves. Only I do this to myself, well not really. The thing is, I kind of explained how badly my head hurts constantly with the barbed wire image wrapped around my soft and squishy brain, right? My brain truly feels like it's constantly being pressurized and pushed on by this barbed wire, and the barbed wire is my anorexia. Not a moment goes by where I am not anxious, panicking, or thinking about food, the calories in it, or all that other bullshit that us crazy food people worry about. The thing is people have always said that anorexia is not about food, and that is entirely true. It is different for everyone, completely. But for me, it's about me. Me.
See, I hate myself so much that controlling my food and my image is completely the only thing that makes me feel good about myself because people will only see that I don't overeat or force-feed myself, I have an appearance that I work for, and I keep myself together. In reality I'm starving myself, I'm working on an appearance that will contribute to a potential death, and I constantly try to be around people so I don't have to be alone in my head with what I'm truly dealing with and what my brain tells me.
Now I want to know if maybe you've got a fraction of an understanding about what my anorexia does put me through. I didn't choose to eat a significantly low caloric intake a day. I honestly didn't even know I struggled with anorexia for the first 6 months of it in 2020. I remember there was this girl who helped me cover up my insecurities about my anorexia and I loved talking about hers to avoid people talking about how little I ate of my food. That is extremely selfish I know, but when your brain is wrapped in barbed wire, absolutely pulsing trying to get it off from all the pressure and pain surrounding it, you have to go into survival mode. You have to fight to survive the ghosts of the people you surround yourself with. Once you're caught, you have to go into war as they haunt you. They shake your bed, they slam your doors, and make your stairs creek to never give you rest. Did you allow me to rest? Or did you haunt me?
Signed,
The person who can't wait to be a ghost like you are to me.
