Helpless

I feel like I'm just remembering a place I've never been.
Everything is wonderful and painful.
It's like the rush of adrenaline that pulls at your seams after you've torn holes in your paper heart.
Nothing here makes any sense.
There is an odd feeling of nostalgia accompanying the excitement of experiencing something new.
But none of this is new and the memories of it don't bring comfort but searing agony.
My head is confusing sadness for love and exhaustion as happy.
Up is across and down is diagonal and side ways is parallel.
All of my angles have rearranged and my head hurts trying to figure out how any of this could be possible.
How did it get like this?
When did my life crumble to metallic dust and why did I never notice it before?
I get so lonely and my head feels too big but entirely too minuscule.
It all hurts so much and I don't know how to think or feel or who the fuck I am anymore.
I feel so tired.
I don't know what to do and I fear that I'm getting too close to the edge of my world.
Too close to nothing and it's going to swallow me alive.
It's all so terrifying but relieving and I don't know how that is.
I am so lonely.

I'm really tired of myself.
I feel really cliche in all the worst ways.
I don't really remember ever liking who I am so that's not the issue really.
It's just gotten so hard to ignore the things I'm doing.
I've been teetering on a weird dotted line I had never noticed before.
I've actually considered getting better.
I'm not talking about the pathetic attempts at recovery I've tried because thinking that you can be healthy and starve and binge and purge and cut yourself is not rational.
I've thought about throwing it all away.
Sinking back into myself the way I had before I met Lukas.
I thought about dying in comparison to actually living.
I don't know which i want but this limbo of not dead but not alive is getting so tiring.
It's exhausting killing myself to no avail.
Starving for no results and slitting my own throat only to realize that my blade is plastic.
I am tired.
I don't know how to decide if I want to die or live.

My account on tumblr got suspended and I'm fucking done

I'm jealous of anyone who can be near you.
Being able to touch you; to wrap my arms around your neck and breathe in the cent of your skin.
To hear your laugh and watch the color rise in your cheeks.
To hold your hand and kiss you; there isn't anything I want more.
So when you ask if I am jealous I won't lie to you.
I wish to let my love for you seep from my pores and melt on your flesh.
My complexion might as well have a tint of green.

I purged clumps of blood yesterday.
I had this weird feeling afterwards.
My heart felt strange and everything got really slow.
I had to lay down for two hours.
I'm shaky and constantly cold.
My nails are always a weird blue purple color(it fades into orange and my nails look like a sunset).
Despite the fact that these should be worrying I can't help but feel proud that finally; finally, I am showing signs of sickness.
And then today I got my period.
It's a month late but that makes no difference.
It came back and I'm in so much fucking pain and all I want to do is scream.
And possibly cry which is guaranteed considering I'm a hormonal wreck.
I don't think I could possibly explain the disgust I currently hold for my body.
The longest I lost my period for was four months.
I feel like a failure and nothing ever work out right.
No matter what I do I'm healthy or faking it or not sick enough or don't warrant help and I'm just so fucking SICK of it.
I'm tired of sitting here being at a health weight when I feel like the living fucking death.
I'm tired of trying to prove the fact that I have mental illnesses.
I'm tired of people scoffing at me when I say I suffer from disordered eating.
I'm tired of not having a fucking diagnosis to justify my self hatred.
I'm really fucking tired.

I hate the not knowing.
I hate the second guessing.
I hate the nights I sit here alone wondering if you passed out or just don't feel like talking.
I hate alone.
I hate everything about alone.
I hate the emptiness.
I hate the constant worrying if I did something to make you start to resent me.
I hate thinking that you could resent me.
I hate being alone thinking that you think these things.
I hate not being able to ask you if any of the things I worry about are true.
Alone feels like shit.
Thinking you resent me feels like shit.
Being alone with the thought that you could possibly resent me makes me want to kill myself.

Don't leave me.
I don't think I could take it.