You don't know how hard it is to write this right now. I created this blog for the sole purpose of being truthful. Where I spill my heart and soul without anybody knowing who I am. Whether I'm their best friend, or their sister. Maybe even their brother.
But I'm a girl, so brother is out of the question.
I'm not gonna use my real name, so anybody who reads this will now know me as L. L because it's the first letter of liar. And I'm a liar, but in this blog, I'm not. I'm a girl with an eating disorder, a low self-esteem, a mentally abusive family, anger issues, etc, etc.
I'm not gonna tell you my dislikes or my favourites, I'm not about to tell you how my day was at school, and I'm not about to tell you bullshit about my friends.
I'm gonna tell you how hard it is to look in my mirror everyday knowing that all I'll ever see are my flaws.
I'm gonna tell you how I almost fainted during multiple basketball games because I don't eat enough.
I'm gonna tell you how I tried to get help, but my family shut me down.
I'm gonna tell you how I ended up with an eating disorder.
I'm gonna tell you all my secrets. Each and every one.
But what I'm not gonna do is sugar coat them. I'm gonna lay them on the line and never admit to writing them. Call me a coward, but if I risk posting this on my original blog, my best friend may or may not read it and figure out I'm not at all who she thinks I am. She'll figure out I'm such a HUGE hypocrite, that I wouldn't be surprised if she hated me.
She'll figure out more than I've ever wanted her to. And I cannot risk that.
So, here goes.
I can't look at a scale and see those numbers staring me right in the face. I'm so obsessed with my weight that I'm slowly losing all control I once had. I'm detaching myself from my friends and family, and I'm becoming a cynical pessimist.
Some days I would like to rip out all my hair and claw my eyes out so I won't have to look at my reflection anymore.
I yearn for some sort of relationship where my significant other will call my beautiful and mean it. Who'll help me through all my pain. Who'll tear down all the walls I've built and push me to getting help.
I HATE not knowing about my childhood, because I want to know why I have such deep trust issues.
I hate that I don't have one friend that I can be my true self around. Not one fucking friend. Out of what, two hundred? Pathetic, I know.
You say I'm popular but sometimes I wish I was anything but. You say I'm skinny, but I know I'm not. I'm not under one hundred pounds, therefore I must be obese. I get it.
You don't need to tell me I'm beautiful because I know I'm not.
You don't need to fill me with false hope, just because you were raised to be 'nice'. FUCK NICE. I WANT YOU TO TELL ME THE TRUTH.
I'm a horrible friend, I know.
I'm ugly, inside and out, I know.
I'm whiny, I know.
I'm fat, I know.
I'm a bitch, I know.
I'm gonna end up alone, I know.
SO WHY DO YOU INSIST ON LYING RIGHT TO MY FACE? Just, please, please, please, for once, tell me the truth. And maybe I'll do the same.
- L.
