This week my life clicked into place, I have a full work calendar until September, and interview for my absolute dream job, time at home with my family, and my dog who is the rock that holds me together.
This week I spent all my savings on food, went shopping for clothes and cried at a help desk when I couldn’t return some trousers that I’m too fat to fit in anymore.
Ate while rereading notes and covered expensive charts in tea and chocolate stains, splattered vomit on my new jumper, stains that I cannot wash out.
This week I cried with the overwhelming pressure and fear of the future. I screamed at my father simply because I swing from rage to joy to rage again. A rage fuelled by despair and self hate.
I drove to my boyfriends after an amazing day, stopped at ever services to throw up, buy more food, throw up again.
Ate dinner with his parents, stared at a fat girl, wandering how she ate that without feeling guilty, whether he found her more attractive than me.
Visibly agitated from eating, wrapping my leg around his under the table for some form of anchor, before I shatter and dissappear.
Is this my future?