Nothing

I am such a masochist.
I think that's why I can't give this up. Because in all honesty, I feel I deserve it.
I feel like I'm retreating farther and farther into a place I can't even put a name to.
A place where no words can reach me.
A dark place.
A place that feels like home.

A place where I can hurt myself, and cry, and hate, and starve.
A place where no light can shine.

Normally when I'm upset, I talk to Cimiron, and it helps.
Last night, it didn't.
He called, right as I was about to SH.
Not that I told him that.
I ended up telling him about how I feel like I place burdens on him.
He said that I never did, and that he just wanted to help.
He told me to reach out, whenever.
If I need to talk.
Reach out.

I was happy, I laughed, I was smiling as we joked.
I was happy.
But as soon as I got off the phone with him,
The tears started falling silently down my face.
I reached for my razor blade. The feel of it becoming so familiar to me.
I couldn't breathe.
I felt like suffocating.
And all I could think was
I'm unreachable. I'm in pain, but I deserve it. I deserve worse.

If he can't reach me,
Who can?

When does the hope run out?
When is the battle over?

I leave for Hawaii in 16 days.
I dread going. I tried on the swimming suit I had shoved in the bottom of my drawer.
As soon as I saw myself, I cringed.
I wished I had my razor.
Or something, anything.
I have lost no weight.
I have made no changes.
Not eating for most of the day doesn't work for me anymore.
My metabolism is used to it.

That's what makes it so hard.
Everyone says that my metabolism is fine.
That it is at it's peak right now.
I don't believe that.
I go days without eating,
I eat a lot.
I eat a little, and only when I can't refuse.
Nothing changes.
Nothing.

Whenever I get hungry, like actually hungry,
I try to eat something small.
But no matter how healthy what I eat is,
Or how little I eat,
As soon as it passes my lips, I cringe.
I hate.
I cut.
I punish myself, for being weak and giving in.
This is not normal.

In my last post,
I said I was done talking.
I said that I no longer wished to talk
That still rings true.
I am still so close to the edge of the cliff.
Trying not to fall.
Things can't get much worse.
Not in my eyes at least.
Yet I fear what lies at the bottom.
Is it suicide?

I promised people that I wouldn't try again.
I promised I would be strong.
I promised that I would try to keep going.
I promised that I would take this second chance.

I've pretty much broken all of them.
If I can no longer keep a promise to myself,
and I can no longer keep a promise to someone else..
If I can no longer tell you anything about myself,
If I can no longer find the will to fight,
To keep going,
To try...
If I can no longer see a tomorrow,

Then there is nothing left.

I am empty space.
Nothing.