Silence is Deadly

 I remain a firm believer that children who are over weight usually grow up having a hard time losing any of it, if any at all. I was such a positive child and even through all the bad I had to live by, I refused to recognize it. I managed to cope through the trauma of it without ever knowing I was coping, and that was raiding the cupboards for some snack to eat.
 It wasn’t until I reached middle school that I began to steal food late at night. I thought about it when I got home, and it stayed with me obsessively till I managed to snag something I knew was terrible for me once my dad was asleep.
 It honestly still shocks me that it took me this long to understand what I had started, and the result of this bad habit that is one of the things I regret. Middle school had been my breaking point. I stopped eating, stopped talking, and couldn’t sleep. I became this hateful little girl that hated herself and the world all at once. The world was my enemy, and therefore my life had really lost all its meaning. I stopped working and become a compulsive liar. It all came to hit me that this long battle with in me had finally reached my head and kicked my ass so hard that I couldn’t get back up.
 After 6 months, I was a wreck. This led me to looking at myself in the mirror for hours at a time and hating what I saw to the point where the marble counter became my punching bag. I tried everything, and my obsession with death and fire only managed to increase. I was hoarding candles, so I could light them in my closet and have it burn my skin slowly. I was intelligent enough not to cut my wrist because it left scars, and I wasn’t about to have some one notice I needed some help. I wasn’t looking for attention, it was the exact opposite. After I had gotten out of it..well, I thought I had improved.
 Until my maintained weight of 150 started increasing week after week. I started binging on food till I would be puking it out because my stomach simply couldn’t take it in anymore. It was my pure obsession with it that helped me live through those same urges I started so long ago. I had to admit to myself that I was traumatized. I was sick. I had a mental illness.
 A year later, I know what exactly is wrong with me. Due to my pure neglect I gained more problems from my original ones. I have a sleeping disorder that I have luckily managed to find natural sleeping aides for me, I have a long standing depression that only worsens, extreme anxiety that leaves me a recluse, and an eating disorder that is killing me physically.
 I am stuck in this place where I have no support from the world around me, and I feel nothing for the sake of continuing on with my day. Being alone is helping me manage my guilt. I need to be alone to keep calm but I hate being alone.
 In truth, I am a complete mess. Highly capable of being called insane, and am assuredly not healthy enough to be living in society.