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...See more Unorganized rant: I’m clinically overweight and I don’t think that I even have the “right” (is that the right word?) to say I have an eating disorder. I don’t meet the qualifications of low BMI. But, then again, all my friends think I do. And the attention makes me feel good. Until it doesn’t, and I stop sitting with them at lunch. I hate myself because I do so “good” all day—I eat maybe ~50 calories worth of food from when I wake up until 6, then I go home and eat dinner and feel fat and disgusting. Sometimes, I’m okay, and I don’t care about food, and I’ll eat what others describe as “normal” but what I think is “absurd.” And then I get tired of anorexia and say, “why even try?” But I force it back onto myself. I hate it, I hate this. A lot of my friends had eating disorders, and I worry that I forced one onto myself too, to be like them. They’re all fine now, but I’m not and I can’t stop. I can, but I won’t. I want to, but I can’t let myself. I eat at night sometimes, sweet things. And then I exercise for hours to get rid of it. I’m always tired, and I’m fighting an uphill battle both ways: losing weight, and deciding whether or not to keep losing weight. I use my skinny friends for motivation, and those friends can eat whatever they want. It’s not fair. The other day, my skinny friend said to me (he knows abt my problem, im male btw) “I’m too skinny, I wish I wasn’t so skinny. Even though I eat like 8 meals a day. You’re lucky that you’re not skinny.” WFT? Itold a friend I trust abt this, and he said that skinny friend was “in the right” for “motivating” me. ***, motivating me for what? Starving myself? Didn’t we have entire debates over me not doing that? Well then don’t mind if I do. When im changing for gym, I’ll just stare at my shirtless skinny friend with a BMI of like 5 who all my friends always say “body tea” to, and admire the way his bones stick out, and use him for motivation. My friends tattled on me to my parents (that’s what I get for opening up to them), but they don’t care, and that’s good. At least, not about what I do when they can’t see me. They think I’m normal, just that I skipped lunch a few days. I hate myself. I hate my body, and my intrusive thoughts. I’m trying so hard to loose weight, but I can’t do it fast enough, which makes me frustrated. My parents contradict themselves endlessly—they always say “eat what’s healthy,” but then (when I wasn’t trapped) they’d say “slow down and put some back” when I’d take seconds. They’d tell me it was health-related, but then why did we keep all this junk food in the house that I wasn’t allowed to eat? Having talks with me about obesity when you catch me eating a cookie? I learned to hide wrappers, and then they’d have huge convos about me with that, saying “just throw them away, that’s disgusting. Don’t be a slob.” And so I would, and they’d tell me to eat less junk food, and the cycle starts again. And I try, and I try. And I love being hungry but I love food and I hate that hollow feeling and the nausea and chugging water until I feel like a balloon and waking up having less energy than I had before and not being able to tell anyone anything and I’m always around people so I can never scream and I’m so fed up. I’m fed up, but I’m not fed.

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