Her name is Ana. Short for Anorexic. She is the voice inside my head that tells me not to eat. She is the one that constantly tells me to lose weight. She manipulates me. Playing with me like a puppet. She makes makes me feel guilty when I eat. She makes me cry my self to sleep. She makes me isolated from others. "You can't let people see you until your perfect" she tells me. But the truth is I will never be perfect. I'll never be good enough for anyone. After reaching my goal weight what happens then? I will want to keep losing and losing weight until my body is practically looking like a dead corpse. This insane obsession is driving me closer and closer to my death. And for what? Who am I trying to impress? Who is so important that I have to look like skin and bones? Why am I the way I am? Why do I strive to be perfect? I will never be satisfied with my self. But Ana says it's worth it. It's worth dying slowly. The pain is worth it. "6 more pounds" she reminds me.
