I'm not going to tell you my name, where I live, or why i'm even writing this. Quite honestly, I don't know. I just do know that others feel exactly the same I do. As for the others who are reading and glimpsing into the struggling lives of people with eating disorders, here is my life in a nutshell. I wake up every morning, go into the bathroom. I step on the scale, 105. Still. My low being 88 and my highest being 114, i've been stuck at 105 for 2 days. I've been anorexic for 2 years. Although I used to not look at it as a disease, I do have anorexia, and I am in fact, anorexic. As much as I hate food, I love it. It's a love hate relationship that I can't really describe. While i'm eating food, i'm always thinking "do I really need to eat this? Think of the calories." I try to stay at 500 calories a day. Of course sometimes I go overboard by 100, feel guilty, but I promise myself I won't throw up. I have thrown up my food twice in my life, and I cannot deal with 2 eating disorders, mind you one. Food controls my life. Last summer, I weighed in at 88 towards the end. I isolated myself from my friends, as i'm doing now. Although my friends aren't home this summer, i'm depressed. I started cutting myself. It started with my wrist, which now has 6 prominent scars which are easy to see. It's not like anyone is going to say anything, or maybe nobody cares. So I moved to where no one can see. My right hip is my new target, where there are now scars and newly made cuts. As I said before, food controls my life. Everytime I eat something, I feel guilty. I can't go on living like this. I hope one day, I can be happy, and not cut myself and not worry about what I put into my mouth. As I continue to lose weight, I just think of myself slowly dying. And I am, because I wish I would. And that is my life.

And once again, no one cares.