There is no reasoning with this disease. It is a killer. I find comfort in my killer and false acceptance and dysfunctional hope masquerading as love. I am infatuated with food and it is killing me silently one spoonful, one fork full at a time. My body and joints ache, crying out for me to stop, but I do not. I press on into the food. Surely this time it will be different, surely this time it will save me from my emotions, from my self loathing, from this pain it has caused. Surely….Oh, if only it would.


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