One thing leading up to another and yet another.  Seeing so much that I've closed my eyes to... I look in the mirror to find that I've dwindled... not a surprise.  I had made a conscious decision to starve myself again.  Logic screams at me to stop... to eat... to do SOMETHING.  My bones ache with each movement or even lack of movement... protesting the lack of nutrients they recieve from already depleted fat stores.  I hurt... but somehow... in that twisted way only a truly sick person could... I savor  the empty feeling I have each morning... horrifyingly enough, the feeling of hunger...

I never did it for attention.  No matter what anybody else thinks... no matter how this may make them squirm... I did it - I do it - for control.  Power.

And now I see my face... drawn and pale... even underneath the bronzer and blush... I look into my own eyes and see the wrenching pain.  My heart is sick and I don't know how to fix it.  My brain works overtime to find the right answers but there are none.  Mind over matter?  Maybe when it comes to food but the rest remains to be seen.

I haven't felt this in such a long time.  I've been numb but events have forced me to feel.  More than anything I want the strength to deal as though I wasn't broken beyond repair in the first place.