Life Goes On (Sequel to "I'm Not Who You Think.") **ON HOLD/EXTREME REVISION**

Chapter 8: one last time?

"I'm so proud of you,"

Lacey said softly.

Today marks the day of me being,

4 months clean.

4 months without a single cut.

I've eaten almost every meal.

Every single day.

It's been hard--

But at the same time it's been so worth it.

I feel so clean,

And so free.

But not everyday is easy.

Most days are still fights.

I'm able now to fight the war,

We call life,

Without taking it out on myself.

I've gained 13 pounds,

Only 40 away from

A healthy weight.

Some of my clothes don't fit,

And at first it was extremely troubling.

But now I'm getting more comfortable.

Forward six days,

And I'm the exact opposite.

My mind is racing,

And I'm pacing my room.

In the mirror I catch a glimpse of myself.

My ribs aren't sticking out near as much,

And my thighs have gotten fat.

Suddenly I see myself as before.

Everything seems to be swelling.

And within a matter of minutes,

I go from being fine,

To freaking out.

I don't know why,

Or how,

But I found myself,

Sitting on the bed,

Blade in hand.

My scars were now covered with

All fresh cuts.

At the same time I felt relieved,

But also I felt I finally lost.

I'll never be able to save myself.

They say depression is supposed to fade.

After eighteen years,

I'm starting to doubt that theory.

My room is dark.

And my breathing is getting out of control.

I try calming it.

Nothing works.

I stand up and start pacing again.

My figure getting larger,

And larger,

Every time I pass the mirror.

I do the last thing on my list.

"Hello?

Jake it's one in the morning are you--