The urge to cut has gone away but the urge to starve has grown. I feel sad and jealous all the time. I feel so observant. I see the looks people give me when they don’t want to hear me or be around me. The looks other girls give me, judging my body. I know I am fat, I know I am ugly. Please stop looking at me. Please pay attention to me. Stop acting like you hate me. Stop pitying me. Every time I eat I feel sick. Every time I eat I am getting fatter. Every time I eat someone new is judging me. Every time I speak someone is leaving me. I told my friend (the ex-best friend) how I felt and we worked things out and I gave her a part of me. I regret it. I regret telling her. I should have lied. Now she will pity me. I love talking to her, she makes me feel like I matter. But when she’s around other people I wonder if it’s a game to her. Does she really care about me? But does anyone truly care? All I am is background noise. Unwanted background noise. Sometimes I think if I was skinnier I would be loved. And part of me thinks that that is true and part of me tells myself that I will never be loved. Sometimes I hear a voice talking to me in my head and I don’t know if it is mine. But it’s so believable. It makes so much sense. It’s not that demon, it is someone else. It just encourages me not to eat. It tells me how I will fill sick and I will not be loved. It is not the demon who crushes me, it is a voice that helps me keep going. That has kept the cutting thoughts at bay. It’s new to me. To not want to die. But I still feel empty. I still feel like I am nothing. I started reading again and that helps feel the void. Helps give me emotions. But when I am done reading, or when I am not reading, the feelings come back. I feel terrible whenever I eat. I feel the weight gain. I feel the humiliation. The downfall of everything I worked for. Starving myself is not new. It’s what I do. Ever since I was 12. Wow, a lot of things happened when I was 12. I don’t know why. Maybe that’s when I realized that I was different. That no one cared about me. That no one loved me. That I was all the horrible things my demon told me I was. I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel. All I can think about is how people judge me. How they look at me like I am fat or they are annoyed with me. That’s all people do. I hate everyone. I feel nothing, yet in my head I hate them. I want nothing to do with them but I want them to love me. I want them to be jealous of me. I want to be pretty and skinny and smart. I want them to envy me. I want all eyes to be on me. Because then maybe I will feel something. I can leech off their emotions and feel great. I am truly sick. But that’s okay. Everything’s okay.