You couldn't understand, even if you tried.

"I am not sad, she would repeat to herself over and over, I am not sad. As if she might one day convince herself. Or fool herself. Or convince others – the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because her life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. She would fall asleep with her heart at the foot of her bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of her at all. And each morning she would wake with it again in the cupboard of her rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by midafternoon she was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad."

I had a nightmare last night where I started eating and I couldn’t stop and I knew exactly what I was doing and I kept telling myself to stop but my body just WOULDN’T stop and when it was over I tried to purge and nothing came out and ugh oh my god it was the worst dream ever.

I hate it when people look at me. I hate it when people tell me I look good. I just really hate attention. Especially from men. It makes me really sick. Sick to my stomach. I want to become so hollow that no one ever looks at me again. That´s kind of my only goal in life.

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