Nobody knows what it's like. Nobody understands the rules. The rules I must follow, or risk brutal punishment from the voice in my head, "You fat, ugly pig!" "You will never be perfect unless you attain total control!" "Nothing you do is ever acceptable..." Beads of sweat drip down my creased forehead and after glancing at the clock I realise I have been here, at the gym, for almost 2 hours. I exercise for the voice in my head, so that I may satisfy its want, no, need for perfection.
Stepping off the machine I can feel fatigue "Two hours is nothing you idiot! Think of those whale thighs, they will never disappear at this rate!" I know the voice is right, and so, to pay for my selfish mistake, I will skip lunch today and probably tomorrow as well. As I leave for home memories flood into my head. Sometimes, like now, I remember back to the good old days before anorexia arrived. These blissful memories only survive for a moment, until the voice reminds me that I was never truly happy, simply ignorant of my imperfections. "It is impossible to be happy when you're life is out of control and your body is made up of roll after roll of pasty, pudgy fat."
But the thing is, my life is still a living nightmare. I wish I could crawl into bed and sleep for eternity, dreaming simple, perfect dreams. I do wish I wasn't like this; my every thought focused around food, my every choice affected by the need for flawlessness. But at least now I'm in control. No one knows about my problem, and that's the way it has to stay.
