Help

They had all been staring at me.

Burning holes into my back, into my forearms.

Everywhere.

They knew.

I knew. I just refused to admit it.

I knew that I had a problem. I knew that it wasn't a small problem either.

I'd always had a nice body. But at some point in my life, I became dangerously overweight. So my doctor put me on a strict diet, accompanied by exercises of all sorts. Eventually, I had lost all the weight. But by then, I couldn't stop. I wanted to stop, badly, but I couldn't. It didn't matter that I looked like a model when I looked in my full length mirror. I never felt slim enough.

That was when the problems started I guess.

I started eating once, maybe twice a day, and it eventually came to a point when I didn't eat for days on end.

Soon, it got so terrible, then when I did it, I made my self throw up almost immediately. I'd been like this for months, and I felt like I was in so deep that I'd never be able to stop.

But someone saved me. They took me to a place. A place of hope. A place of help.

I'd been crying out to people for so long, and no one came, until my friend found me passed out on the bathroom floor after work.

I can't say I'm fully healed. Every time I look in the mirror, I still feel unpleased.

But I resist.

I resist the urges, because I know they aren't right.