does this even make sense

rather than consuming food, food consumes me - it gnaws at me, crawling into every fragment of thought constantly and currently the solutions to erase it are non existent.

the most effective form of torture tailored to me is gazing in the mirror.

navigating each individual fold, wishing to plunge my nails and gouge out the fat, fit the smaller puzzle pieces of my body back to whole and be slimmer, skinnier, smaller.

that is my key to ultimate happiness and yet i’m facing wrappers upon plates upon sub-zero levels of self respect because i’ve reached the point of self-hate in which i have to gorge.

i’m isolating again, feeling smothered by everyone and everything.

their voices just grate and overstimulate, rapidly building my anger and vitriol; which is obviously no one’s fault but my own.

i can’t help it.

social situations suffocate me, my lungs collapse under themselves in a mid to large setting.

no cure. no medicinal methods other than class A’s.

inadequacy envelopes my body as this current moment.

realistically, it’ll be a period spanning weeks to months, appearing to me like days since my medicinal methods have exponentially fucked my perception of time.

my siblings have officially shot to death any yearning i may’ve had for kids in the future. babies’ crying under be utilised as a form of warfare. i would kill for them but the frequency and volume of those cries feel like someone’s lodging a toothpick into my eardrums every three seconds. why women are constantly pressured to produce these and mocked for expecting aid drives my hatred for men.