Relapse (Luke Hemmings)

Chapter 3. Confession

     (This chapter's really triggering so if you're easily triggered please, please, please don't read this chapter)

After the past month of living with Luke I've been having some trouble. Not with our relationship, but with my eating habits. My thoughts continuously turn food into anything negative or I'll point out something about myself and say food is causing my weight gain. In a sense I should be eating because I guess I'm skinny.
     Honestly I only attempted recovery for Luke. I wanted to see him happy. I didn't want him to see him worry. I honestly think I wasn't ready for recovery. I often find myself questioning my decision. I mean it's been a year. A whole year!
     The thoughts stopped for a couple months. Don't get me wrong I did have a few thoughts here and there about how I looked but that didn't occur daily like these thoughts.
    I have some sort of desire welling up in me to be thinner than I was before. To be all bones and skin. No muscle, no trace of fat; all bone and skin. I want to see my sternum again. I want my rib cage to be more visible. I want to see the back of my rib cage. I want my thigh gap to be wider. I want my arms to be stick thin. I want to be thin again. I'm slowly gaining weight and I hate it. Luke doesn't know it but I hate it.
    Urges to self harm irk me. I see my scars that I created. I can't help but to drag my hand across them. Sometimes I'll even scratch at them. Not violently, just how anyone would scratch and itch.
    I can't avoid my own body. I have to look in a mirror at least once a day. I have to look down to wash my body in the shower. I hate that. I hate the sight of my own body. I can see the weight in my face. My cheeks aren't as sucked in as they were. I hate my face. It's so... ugly.
     I don't understand how Luke could love me. Does he even love me? What if he finds out what I'm doing to myself again. What if he figures out what's going on in my mind. Why would he even care?
     I've always had an eating disorder. When I was little I would just eat a meal every day and then they got smaller and smaller  until there was barely anything left. I would kick and scream every time someone tried to force me to eat. I hated it. I didn't care if I was hurting the people around me. I didn't care what I was doing to myself. I didn't care.
     I would cry myself to sleep almost every single fucking night because I ate something or because I couldn't hurt myself, even if I felt like I did something wrong like make a B on a test because I thought I disappointed my mom. My grades gradually went lower. From all A's to barely making the principles list.
     I wasn't mentally stable for school, to be around people, or to be me for that matter. Yet I continued to go to school, be around friends and stay alive. I honestly don't know how I've managed to fail all those times. I was so determined, but I failed- I failed at killing myself. I proved to myself that I couldn't do anything right. I was my worst bully.
    Those kids in intermediate school who picked on me couldn't even compare to the things I've said or thought to myself. I deteriorated myself, my being and turned into that girl who sat in the back of the class quietly. I never talked to anyone because I thought that they'd see every flaw I pointed out that morning.
     The only friend I did actually have was Michael but we barely got to talk when school was open. It was kind of hard to. I didn't have anyone really. Sometimes I think if Michael was around then he could've stopped half the stuff I do to myself. He managed to get me to stop self harming as much as I used to when he moved back and I started living with him.
    Michael didn't know how broken I was but in a way he did. Like any other person he had feelings too. Sometimes I would hear him crying but I couldn't help him because I'm a selfish broken bitch who deserves nothing she has. Instead of helping him I cried too. I cried because I couldn't help him. I felt bad. I couldn't help it.
     Sometimes I stop and think, why is Luke even with me? I don't deserve anything he's done for me. What have I done for him? Barely anything.
     I just deserve pain. That's all there is to it really. I'm not broken, I'm shattered. I used to think I was broken but now I know I'm shattered to pieces. I'm sorry.
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