So the other day when I first started to not eat/restrict, I told my boyfriend. I was scared, I didn’t want to go through this. It’s exhausting.
He knew about last summer, when I was close to being underweight and had to go to the hospital. He knew it was bad.
When I told him the other night, about me starting again, he was so sweet. He said he was there for me, said he understood, and he’d even hand feed me if he needed to. It helped. A lot.
The next day, he didn’t say anything about it, didn’t asked if I ate, nothing. The day after, I was tired and hungry, and said to him, “I want to eat but I’m scared I’ll hurt myself I don’t want to do this again” and all he says is “Idk eat if u can” then we stopped talking about it. I- wtf?
Then, he came over tonight, sleeping next to me as I type this, the first thing he starts talking about is how he hasn’t ate all day and the last time he ate was last night. I was triggered the whole fucking time.
Then a couple minutes go by and he asks if I ate today. I said yeah. He asked what and I said cereal (i had ONE other thing, but just wanted to see what he would say) and he goes “how long ago?” I say idk. That was the end of that conversation.
Him seeming like he doesn’t care just makes me want to get worse. Worse than I wanted to be when I first started to not eat a couple days ago. I want my ribs to be STICKING out. Legs like a fucking STICK. Arms like a TWIG. Collarbones POPPING out. Just so he feels bad and wishes he helped sooner.
Thanks for the motivation, I needed it. I hope you feel like shit. But then again, I don’t, because I love you.
Please notice soon, help me.
But then again, don’t, because now, I don’t want the help.
discoholicmusic
kaledo-art
kianamaiart
vaporwave
dailybridgerton
janainaart
