pick your battles

Sometimes you have to just pick your battles. Sometimes it's not that easy but sometimes it really is just black and white. 

Sometimes nothing goes your way. Sometimes nothing is how you planned it. Sometimes you need something to hold onto and if that thing is something terrible but it keeps you from ending it all, then it's not so terrible. 

Sometimes you are so full of nervous energy that you can't do anything at all. Other times you are so tired that you are too tired to sleep. 

Sometimes no matter how much weight you lose, you still think you look the same. There is never a time when you think you are losing weight fast enough. 

Sometimes it is just so discouraging to never feel good enough and never feel beautiful. And sometimes all the compliments in the world won't make that better. 

BMI of 20.6. I'm getting close to getting out of the 20s. I can't remember the last time I was out of the 20s, I think it was probably when I was at intermediate school. 

But with every pound lost I feel guilt. Guilt and triumph. 

Let's play a game. How low can you go?

How low can I go without getting in trouble? How well can I hide it? 

Each pound lost brings unspeakable joy. Absolutely unspeakable joy. Nothing makes me feel more accomplished. The thrill of being hungry, of feeling thinner, of being able to starve, of turning down a meal...sometimes that's the only thing that makes me feel like I'm worth anything at all. 

That feeling lasts maybe a minute. 

Each cut and each blood stained tissue brings unspeakable relief. That tension that stops me from sleeping and stops me from studying and stops me from doing anything at all just melts away. It keeps me sane. It keeps me from jumping off high buildings and from jumping off bridges and from jumping in front of trains. Sometimes it's the only think that keeps me alive and I feel pure and justified and holy.

That feeling lasts maybe a minute. 

Then the guilt floods in. I can never ever wear a bikini again. Even if I manage to lose all the fat, I won't lose all the scars. And what if anyone ever found out. I can only ever explain some of the cuts. Some of the other ones are clearly self harm. 

"Are you behaving yourself?" the professor looks at me with special emphasis. Clever move indeed. Everyone else thinks he's being sweet and making sure that I'm not partying madly or whatever. 

"Of course I am." I meet his gaze and smile sweetly. I made that mistake once, I'm not making it again. He does not need to know that I'm still losing weight and cutting myself. He does not need to know that I have absolutely no intention of ever telling him anything like that ever again. 

I hate lying to him. But he is going to find out one day. He will know, when I am dead, he will know that nothing ever changed. And that I have been lying to him for years. 

But I will do what I want this time. I'm not going to fight with him over this. Sometimes you have to pick your battles.