I work, I read, I watch movies. I cry, I cut, I starve. My life has been reduced to numbers. Calories, the scale, stats. I lie, fake everything.
See me eat? Look at this dirty, empty plate.
It's all fucking pretend. And am I getting thinner? No. The scale refuses to go down. It's been weeks and I'm a fucking failure.
I'm sick. I'm waiting to be approved for a house that I intend to live in with my boyfriend and I can't even be fully honest with him. If I am, it's all over. I need him. I can't be without him.
So the game continues.
I can't quit.
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