The hard days hurt.
They feel like square one.
They look like a wrecked battlefield.
They taste like defeat.
The hard days make me doubt myself, make me loathe myself.
I wish they could go away forever.
I feed into those hard days.
Pun definitely intended.
I let them define me.
I let them overrule me.
I let them get the best of me,
I choose to focus on the eating disorder,
Rather than focus on the emotions of life
I choose to focus on the food,
And how little or how much I can have of it,
Because it provides escape.
Because it’s the cheapest, easiest, fastest comfort I know.
Why am I still chasing comfort?
When the disorder is anything but?
When the disorder is chaos and pain and absolute horror?
Why chase comfort
In a voice that only offers sugarcoated deceit?
Why seek solace
In the hands of your greatest enemy?
I wish there was a CURE button. I wish there was a black-and-white recovery solution. I wish I could stop the obsession forever. I can’t. I don’t know if I ever will. But I’m trying. I just hope it’s enough.