I had no idea how fragile my confidence was.
I have to compete with my best friend to get any attention whatsoever, so when I’m not around her, I can’t tone it down. But ever since I recovered from my suicidal thoughts, I’ve felt good about myself.
All it took was my friend jokingly insisting she looked better in my clothes than me, for me to revert to my default low confidence.
I don’t think anybody understands how hard I have to work to maintain a close to healthy weight. How I wish I could be bigger, but can’t make it come true. I eat and eat and eat but it all gets burned off before my figure can benefit.
It hurts so bad when people tell me I’m too skinny, because I’m trying as hard as I can to be otherwise. I would kill to have more substance to me.
People wonder why I spent a year and a half eating next to nothing? Why I ate so little that two weeks of one summer passed with me being so hungry the thought of food sickened me? Because why even bother? It’s not like I can keep on weight. I’ll wake up in the morning with a flat stomach, anyways.
Now, I’m starting to slip back into those old habits. Eating little. There’s little difference between that and stuffing myself with food. I’m starting to slip in general. Back to where I started. No confidence, skinny as fuck, and switching between feeling apathetic, and loathing myself.