The Diary of Thin

Matter-of-Factly

"I'm not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things."         

- John Green

As is written above, I've found that life is too short to deny myself the simple pleasure of saying true things, however unpleasant it may be in the short-term. I wouldn't say my parents were the root of my problems but they were at least a root of a root, in a sense. When I was young they never said "I love you," only "Please be quiet" or occasionally "Have a good day at school." I'll never be able to say for sure whether or not my lack of intimacy with my family is the sole reason why I go through boyfriends and girlfriends like disposable vodka cups, but there's no proving it wrong. By the time I was fourteen, I'd learned that making out was a surprisingly satisfying supplement for everything I wasn't getting from the forced acquaintances I happened to live with. 

To this day I still stare in the mirror and wonder how much less space I could take up if I tried; to this day I still check the percent of fat in my coffee creamer and wonder how many more productive things I could have done with the time I spent Googling the calories in a stick of sugar-free gum. Matter-of-factly, to this day I still see broken reflections in my irises from all the time I spent slowly killing myself and I still wake up during the in-between hours of the night and instinctively reach for my scale. Take from this what you will but I can say for a matter of fact that eating disorders aren't funny, that you'd never know until it's too late but the voice in your head telling you to eat less will kill you before you reach zero.