My Beautiful Life
- Luka
- 7 days ago
- 2 min read
Reducing myself became my sole source of beauty, though I can now see that restriction has curated a life for me that isn't beautiful. My beautiful life is about the one I'm chasing beyond anorexia, or at least with adequate management of it.
My parents’ hearts break every time they endure my self-destruction. I feel as though I’m a wrecking ball, this immense burden smashing them and everything in their future pathway. They’re so afraid, all the time, even, I believe, in the good moments, though I know they try their best to hide it. My beautiful life is one where they aren't horribly scared anymore. Though I find security in being empty, I know they do not. I hate the idea of them feeling empty, which is how they feel when they look at me... so empty, so heartbroken, so lost.
My empty stomach is their empty heart.
My empty stomach is one thing, but their empty heart changes the way I perceive the world around me; instead, the world crumbling into itself as I recognise I am hurting the people I love most.
When I eat, I feel like the world is caving in; there is fear omnipresently, I feel my heart beating, racing, and my distress rising. Most of the time, to be honest with you, Dolls, I can't taste the food I eat. Enjoyment doesn't exist for me. And mostly, it doesn't bother me. But just once, I want to remember what it feels like to eat something and think to myself, 'That is so yummy!' in the way I did as a little girl, when I felt free and worthy enough of the pleasurable experiences that life has to offer. I miss what food used to represent. Now it's as though all it represents is its ability to make me put on weight, which I am deeply afraid of doing. I don't want food to be associated with fear anymore.
When I'm restricting, I can manage many things. In fact, it's something many of my family and friends have been in awe of: 'But how do you work?' or 'How do you live by yourself?' And somehow, I do. Somehow, I function well... for the most part. The one major tell for me when things are getting bad is when I lose all my concentration. Suddenly, I can't write my blog posts. Suddenly, I have no inspiration to write my novel. Suddenly, doing my favourite puzzles and board games seems insurmountably difficult. Suddenly, I don't want to work anymore. But aren’t these the things that make your life the most beautiful?; The ‘glimmers’ as my mum and dad would say. So what is a life without them? One that is dull, ordinary, and sad. And I’m so tired of being sad, Dolls. So, very sad.
Dolls, I suppose this blog post was about all of the ugly to highlight just how good it could be if I were to work for the beautiful life my inner child yearns for. So, Dolls, we'd better get working.
All my love,
COS x
