I don't know if it's getting worse or better. Truly, it all generally feels the same now. I can feel slightly less drained -but I am never full. No, I can't be full can I? That's not what it wants. It wants me to suffer. It wants me to die. And one day I will, but not yet.
I can't tell if I want to beat it any more. Do I really want to "get better"? Do I want to be like everyone else? Do I want to be happy? What does happy even feel like? I don't know. I can't tell the honest difference between emotions. I'm not even sure if I have them. This can't be what emptiness is -can it?
If so then it's truly overrated.
Everyday is a true struggle. To move, to think, to speak, to eat... It all just hurts so much. I need to get away from here but I can't. I need to tell someone but I can't. I'll never be able to truly tell anyone what this feels like. I can't even explain it.
It's like my heart is beating so fast and I can hear it and feel it thrumming around in my chest but at the same time I feel so devastatingly finished and hollow.
And I don't know what is the enemy and what is the friend. Is food the one I should trust? Because it doesn't like that at all. It screams when I go to eat. It thrashes into me when I swallow. It hates me, it truly does. It hates what I am and it hates what I want. It's feeding off of me.
And I adore when it does.

--Andria