I feel so sick. Waves of nausea convulsing through my body and these images appearing in front of me, carved into my eyelids so even when I squeeze my eyes tightly closed, all I can see is her with him.
When the Boyfriend and I first got together, I was convinced he was in love with this girl called Rose. She's beautiful, funny, intelligent and has one of those bodies which fill me with gnawing jealousy. He promised me he'd never even kissed her. And then last night after we had sex, he just blurted out how I was a better fuck than Rose. I just lay there thinking it was sort of sick joke. I've always been so jealous of her, of her friendship with the Boyfriend, of the amount of time they spend together, driven crazy by the knowledge that she is far more attractive than me. He then said that it hadn't actually been sex but 'as good as'. And now I don't know what to do. It happened before we were properly together and before I fell in love. But it's the lies - the denials - the casual way in which he announced that I hadn't in fact been the girl he'd given up all his morals, his faith, for.
The post with the photo was meant to be my last post. I don't want to be anorexic daisy. I'm not, I'm really not - I had to go to the doctor's today and she weighed me as I fixed my eyes on the ceiling determined not to care. And then she said the number aloud. It was unbearable. I'm huge. I can't even write how much I weigh. It's disgusting. I just can't believe how far I've let myself go. How I let the fat wrap my body up. I don't want to me anymore. I thought I was getting better, that I didn't care about the numbers anymore, that I actually wanted to live, that I didn't want to be sick anymore, that I knew I had a mental illness and I chose life, and I chose to have children and I chose to have normal relationships and I chose to stop this. But I can't. Not now. All I can see and all I can feel is just fat, fat, fat, fat dimpled, flabby, repulsive. A couple of weeks ago I read all my old posts and I wanted to hug the old me. I wanted to tell her that it would be ok, she'd be free and she'd fall in love.
But that would be a lie. I'm not free. And all I can feel is everything crumbling around me. And nothing. I just want to feel nothing again.