Part of my diary entry of today.
I can’t really remember being happy. Ever. I’ve always felt kind of different. I’ve always looked at people and thought to myself: ‘How can they be so happy? Don’t they think?’ To this day, my view on humanity is practically based on that phrase. Don’t they think?
I wrote this 3 months ago. It just describes my feelings so perfectly. It’s still so accurate.
And I don’t know what it means to be okay. Or to not be okay. I don’t know what to say when someone asks me how I am, because I simply don’t know how I am. Am I okay? Am I not okay? I don’t know what it means to be better, or worse. I don’t know what it means to be skinny or fat. I don’t know what it means to be normal or abnormal. A year ago everything was different and everything was safe. I didn’t eat and I lost weight. I lost weight almost everyday. I weighed myself everyday and I exercised everyday and everyday was the same. The same routine and the same feelings. I wanted to die and I wanted to die skinny. Now everything is mixed up. I want to live and I want to die. I want to eat and I want to starve. I want to stay in and I want to go out. I want to love and I want to hate. I want to laugh and I want to cry. I want to lose weight and I want to not care. I want, I want, I want. I don’t know what I want. I want everything. I want nothing. I’m confused and I hate it.
