So Many Means Of Self-destruction, So Little

The Idea Began To Sink In, More Than It Ever Had, That I Might Be Crazy, In The Traditional Sense Of The Word. That I Might Be, Forever And Ever Amen, A Crazy Person. That's What We'd Suspected All Along, What I'd Been Working So Hard To Disprove, What Might Be True. I Preferred, By Far, Being Dead.

I Am Often Drawn To What Appear At First To Be 'dark' Or 'difficult' Subjects, But Which, Upon Further Examination, Are Always And Only Reflections Of The Ways Human Beings Attempt, However Clumsily, Badly, Or Well, To Connect With Others.

Recovery Isn’t Easy, At First. It Takes Time. It Takes More Work, Sometimes, Than You Think You’re Willing To Do. But It Is Worth Every Hard Day, Every Tear, Every Terrified Moment. It’s Worth It, Because The Trade-off Is This: You Let Go Of Your Eating Disorder, And You Get Back Your Life.

People With Eating Disorders Tend To Be Very Diametrical Thinkers – Everything Is The End Of The World, Everything Rides On This One Thing, And Everyone Tells You You're Very Dramatic, Very Intense, And They See It As An Affectation, But It´s Actually Just How You Think. It Really Seems To You That The Sky Will Fall If You Are Not Personally Holding It Up. On The One Hand, This Is Sheer Arrogance; On The Other Hand, This Is A Very Real Fear. And It Isn't That You Ignore The Potential Repercussions Of Your Actions. You Don't Think There Are Any. Because You Are Not Even There.

For Me, The First Sign Of Oncoming Madness Is That I'm Unable To Write.