Late night thoughts.

I got everything I thought I wanted and I still wasn't happy. I still spent nights crying myself to sleep after everyone else had gone to bed. I listened to my stomach growl from the nourishment it didn't receive and that " I would give it tomorrow" but for now pieces of extra spearmint gum would do. I remember begging God to please not wake me up in the morning. Why? My life was good right? I had a loving family, I made the deans list, I was on the track team, I hung out with the right crowd, I went to church. But I was scared. I was tired. I was hungry. I was hurt. I wasn't being myself because I lost who I was. I was scared of failure, heartbreak, not being enough, food, love, commitment, & acceptance. I was tired from my racing thoughts. From spending every waking hour worrying about food and exercise. If I was the smallest in the room. How much I weighed that day. If I was perfectly tone. If I had any fat on my body. If people liked me. If I was strong enough, talented enough, fast enough. I was hungry from all the calories I burned but refused to replace properly. I didn't need them. I didn't deserve them. What made me think I was good enough to deserve a single calorie. I worked out to burn them off so why would I add them back on? Oh, I ate something substantial that was nourishing to my body? Let escape quickly and unnoticeably to the nearest bathroom. I was hurt. I was hurt and few believed it. So few that I almost stopped believing it myself. Did it really even happen? Maybe I'm the one who should be apologizing like a fool. I started to believe it was insignificant. That I just needed to "move on". But the wound was still open no matter what I tried to cover it with.  Taylor swift was right. Band aids do not fix bullet holes but they didn't even say sorry so I was the one living with ghosts not them.