I am suddenly feeling extremely alone.

No one gets the gravity of this.

I am afraid, the eating disorder is afraid, and if we are separate or one; it doesn’t matter. The more alone I feel the harder it is to separate out what is me and what is the eating disorder.

I imagine falling off a bridge and anorexia swooping me up just before I crash into the earth. Embracing, where there is no embrace anywhere else. I need her, she can’t go. Even though she is anxiety and depression and a million terrible things, I cannot let go. Because if I do, I will break into a thousand pieces and left for the wolves.

I need someone to go with me. I’m so scared. I need support. I need love. I need a constant reminder that this is something that makes sense. That I maybe even deserve it, that extra support is just what I need and that’s ok. I don’t believe any of that.

I am going alone, when I just wish someone could hold my hand and sit with me and say; it’s going to be ok.

I am afraid of my own truths. I am worried I’m crazy. I’m worried that somehow I have crafted the greatest lie and nothing is actually wrong with me– it’s just a story I’ve imagined. I’m also very afraid that it isn’t an imagined story at all–that I am much sicker than I will let myself believe.

I can’t stop redirecting my attention to the hideous layer of fat that resides in my thighs. My stomach. My arms. I just need to lose weight. I just need this fat to be gone. And then I can go.

But it didn’t happen, the fat is all still there and no one gets this part. No one knows the strength of magnetic pull these thoughts have on my decisions. I am not ready to go because I’m completely terrified of not having these thoughts if there’s less anxiety and depression and I need them to function. I don’t know what’s really underneath all that.

I cannot breathe.

I am so afraid.