I’ve moved into my new apartment. My roommate will be slowly moving in over the next month, so I have the place to myself. I’m super excited about this. I have almost no furniture and barely anything in the fridge, but I really don’t care. Along with that, I started my new job and have working my ass off. For the most part, I’ve been in a good place.
But I’ve been drinking, a lot. I drink every night and work toward drunk most nights. I don’t eat that much, either. Last week I had a total of 4 meals, and 2 of them were the same day. This week isnt looking much better. I just don’t feel like eating. Nothing really tastes good, I guess. On top of that, I’ve gotten even more particular about what I will eat. Its down to only vegetables and some fruits. Nothing more. My fingernails are so brittle that layers are peeling off. I’m getting about 5 hours of sleep a night and waking up now and then during that time. I get exhausted at work and bc I’m so hungry and feel weak, I grab a diet soda to hold me over. Surely don’t want to pass out in front of all those ppl I don’t know.
I feel like sometimes I have no one to talk to. I thought someone was my friend but now they won’t text. The internet friends don’t seem like they want to hear any of it. And it goes on and on. I’m so tired I just want to lay down and sleep but it won’t help. I feel sick to my stomach. I ache in my joints. My back hurts more often. It’s awful. I keep waiting for someone to notice but I know that will never happen. I feel like I’m stuck between wanting to get better and not wanting to look like a freak anymore. I keep telling myself I have this under control, all of it, the eating, the drinking, the cravings for things. But the truth is, I don’t think I do anymore. I think its getting the upper hand slowly but surely. And sometimes I don’t even care.
I have to work today and I know I’m not up to it, I’m not physically or mentally well today. I’ll plaster on a happy face, bury everything deep inside and no one will ever know. Thats what I do. I smile and say, “its nothing, I’m fine.” Been working that angle for years. I turn up the music and rock out, desperately trying to shake the feelings, replace them with adrenaline. I know that its adrenaline keeping me alive. The things I do must be signs of my desire to not go on living, but I can’t help but think someone, sometime must notice what I’m doing. Someone must care…maybe.