As I sit back in my chair, ready to take the rains of my recovery carriage, I talk to my passenger. All things change. I want to recover or do I? Do I want to be a fat a** again? The scares from my thighs and breast will never leave. Do I really want to quit my cigs? The very things that keep me sane. Do I want to keep talking to Robbie and Shaun? Do I still want to run after them or just give up on the both of them altogether.
A cramp in the back of jaw starts to forum as the very things that remove my layers of comforting make-up start to roll down my face. The cyanide tears that have not allowed to fall asleep one night for the past 4 months. The things that keep me up until 3 am. I want to go to sleep one night happy. Cuddled up with Shaun in a hotel room somewhere? I don't know.
Someone is finally willing to sit and talk with me to find out how to help me. That's what I thought that I wanted all this time. But now that its really happening, I kind of don't want to give up some of my problems. Maybe I enjoy my eating disorder. I know that I love my cigs. I need cigs to calm me. Need them to ********' live. Good luck prying them from me Nick.
Yeah, if someone has really read this far.... you must be bored. Hardcore bored because I'm so emo its sad. So yeah, do I take the hand that is extended or not? I would take it... but the something stands in the way between us. I didn't want to be "just friends" at first. But he doesn't. I should have never talked to him and got myself into this ******** mess. My goal weight is still 110. My ultimate goal is 90. I still want to reach them... but I want to get better..... ******** I don't even know.
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Purple Ink Please?
Sat Apr 25, '09
12:36 PM
Sat Apr 25, '09
12:36 PM