I can no longer feed the voice in my head telling me not to eat.

Shame

You made me feel so alive, I saw my body deteriorating, and I knew I wasn't in a dream anymore. It made me feel comfort, because I thought I wasn't in reality. My psychosis confused me for the longest time, thinking I wasn't even alive. I didn't want to kill myself anymore, not because I was fulfilled entirely with my life, but because I didn't want to die fat.

I didn't want people to undress me when I was dead, because I was so ashamed of my body. Ashamed of all the stretch marks I tried getting rid of after every binge, my body bloating with gases. You stole something so sensitive from me, me taking my own life on my own terms, because you brainwashed me into thinking I was ever fat.

I wish I could say I stopped cutting myself, because I realized I deserved better, because I substituted you instead, knowing I'd die eventually, I just might as well die thin.