It tickles. 

I have this awful feeling inside me that it’s eating me alive and haunting me every day. It doesn’t lets me enjoy the sun in the morning or my coffee. It gets inside my mind whenever I am taking a shower or laughing and playing with B. 

It tickles. 

The feeling that I am doing everything wrong. That I am not doing absolutely anything to get better. To live better. To make a significant progress on “recovery”. You know how Instagram is full of recovery accounts with fit girls who eat colorfully and everything all the time and they are smiling and going to art therapy and shit. 

And I am here. Stuck. Fucking stuck. Eating the same thing for weeks and weeks and Stiller restricting and purging and relapsing on self harm and feeling ridiculously depressed and down. And with my body image and self love buried 1000 feet’s under. And it only makes me feel like I am obviously not “sick enough”. Not sick enough to deserve the help. Not sick enough. 

And not sick enough doesn’t goes away from my mind. And stays there all day. Whenever I am about to do a change for good. And lately I’ve been struggling so so much it’s unreal. And it’s impossible to give me credit for the good things I do. Cause it feels like I haven’t done anything good. Neither for myself or for changing my situation. 

And doctors recommend I should you know do something of excersice. But I have no energy or motivation to do it. I also don’t have any kind of fucking creativity. I seriously haven’t draw in forever. I can’t write like I used to. I can’t take photos like I used. 

I don’t know how to get better and I don’t know how to treat myself better cause this is the live I have know for so many years that I don’t know who I am without it. I don’t know and I don’t have the courage to descover it. 

Done. I said it. 


I don’t have it. 


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