There is no sense of pride I feel when I look at myself. If I could put my shame and self hatred in a bag I would break my back trying to pick it up. Everything in my life is a blur and for some reason I believe that restricting will give me the lenses to help me see life again. I’ve fallen short, and it kills me. My dads death was supposed to inspire a better me. A person that could leave his ashes proud but instead here I am counting the hours of restriction hoping that I can be beside him in whatever universe he is now in. It’s not rediculous to miss somebody and want to see them. I want to hear my name, I want to tell him about my day, I want the stories about his life to leave his lips instead of the countless cards I am receiving. You miss people but what I am feeling towards his lose is more than the word miss can encompass. I long for him and playing the role of a girl who lost her dad is just too fucking much.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I am supposed to do. I wish I could just stop and grieve but school is just drowning me. I’m sick too. And I need him back.