I just looked at pictures of myself 18 months ago. Fuck. I was different. I'm a fucking state.

I make reference to my eating issues constantly (I think I reassure everyone I've met in the last year that I used to be skinnier at least once a day) and I know that's crazy fucking irritating, but I really don't think anyone listens. This is killing me. I feel like I'm drowning, and I have no idea how to make it right. So many times I've gone to sleep thinking tomorrow I'm going to be okay, I'll kick these habits, and sometimes I can go a week or so, but that's all. And it's getting worse and worse, and I feel so out of control, I have no idea how to feel ok in my own skin again.

I know I had an eating disorder back then too, but I felt so pretty. I know I felt miserable and crazy in other ways, I'm not mad, I do remember that, but I felt pretty. I don't feel pretty now. I haven't for a really, really long time. I hate how I look. I hate getting dressed up. I hate people looking at me. I hate how my face looks with a layer of blubber around it. I hate that my fat day pants dig in so much it hurts. I hate it more now. I miss my old type of miserable.  God, that's fucking emo of me. Fuck. I hope this doesn't last much longer. I can't handle this. I'm not handling this.

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