The "You're Not Fat" Campaign

The food is going through my system. I can feel it. I can feel myself starting to wake up. I can feel my head starting to clear.

You can feel the calories making you fatter than before you fat disappointing failure.

For once I don't feel lightheaded or dizzy or shaky or cold.

I feel sad and full and heavy and warm and I can't tell if I like it or hate it.

You hate it you hate it you hate it fat fat fat

No, I don't hate this feeling.

I hate myself.

I hate myself for doing this - for starving and cutting and purging and wanting to die - because I have no reason to feel this way.

I was never raped. Or abused. Or seriously bullied. Or kidnapped. Or harassed.

I am just a sad fat pathetic attention-seeking excuse for a girl.

And I hate myself for that.

I don't deserve treatment because I deserve this illness. I deserve this sadness and this pain.

Cassie is the one who deserves treatment.

Tessa deserves treatment.

I do not deserve treatment.

It would be better if I just died.

Then someone who actually deserves the treatment that I am getting could have a shot at recovery.