Bones
Thirteen
Jamie starts conversations he doesn’t even want to finish. Because talking requires thinking and thinking requires energy and energy causes an electrical shit storm to brew in his brain where he’s struck by lightening every single time. You starve the body, you starve the mind, and Jamie can’t even begin to comprehend the amount of grey matter in his brain he’s destroyed thus far on his crusade towards.. well, something. He’s somewhat forgotten what his original goal was at this point.
Every goal weight was just another notch, every new one after that was a deep gaping wound. Because when having 120 means wanting 110 and having 110 means wanting 100 and having 100 means wanting 90 and having 90 means wanting fucking nothing. Fucking perfection. And Fucking Perfection means another round in attempting recovery which means another relapse and feeling even more like a failure.
Nothing and Perfection. Jamie tends to confuse these two things on a much too regular basis and this type of thinking is in no way productive.
Every goal weight was just another notch, every new one after that was a deep gaping wound. Because when having 120 means wanting 110 and having 110 means wanting 100 and having 100 means wanting 90 and having 90 means wanting fucking nothing. Fucking perfection. And Fucking Perfection means another round in attempting recovery which means another relapse and feeling even more like a failure.
Nothing and Perfection. Jamie tends to confuse these two things on a much too regular basis and this type of thinking is in no way productive.