Alone in the bathroom. With just me and my body. Thick enough to bury my ribcage. Throwing up what i've eaten. Along with the little bit of confidence I have.  Because I only feel pretty when i’m hungry. Only feel full when i’m empty. And no one understands the emptiness and how it works. Telling me to “Just stop”.Just stop. And I take it as them trying to say just stop being me. Because i have become my sickness. It's not easy to just stop being fat. I’ve learned to lie out of love. Lie to my significant other so he wouldn't ask why. Until I didn't lie. Just to see that he didn't understand either.  You want to be someone you're not. But eating disorders are very in. Like kale, like skinny jeans, like hollywood singers. Like when your bestfriend talks about the girl on TV who was sooooooo hot because she had the “perfect figure”. It's a vicious cycle. Eating my pain just to throw up my heart. The acid eating away at me until i've become numb. Throwing up until the smell of food makes you want to get sick.  Watching exercise videos just to pass out and forget what you've already done. I want to learn to love myself. But there is just too much to be able to not love.