No sour grapes

To my many disorders,

This break up is not my fault it’s yours.

It’s actually not because I’m unloveable or because I got “too fat,” or because sometimes I need a little reminder to eat and some reassurance that I’m not offensive to look at. It’s not because of anything I’ve done, it’s all you. You took away yet another thing I loved.
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I’ve been a bad egg

It’s no secret that I’m not my BFFL but boy have I reached new enemy heights in the last few months. My army of eating disorders have been driving the tank full throttle and it’s nothing short of a minefield. Whilst it’s slightly premature to declare a ceasefire, I think I should probably explain myself…

I’ve started posts. They’ve been beginnings of letters to myself, letters to my eating disorder, letters to past me, present me and future me, all of which try, with their abstract metaphors and attempts-at-being-witty analogies, to plead with me just one thing:

Don’t. Fucking. Binge.

Simples.

Continue reading “I’ve been a bad egg”