The pressure is too much. Between blancing a strange eating disorder, a parent who has too much stress to deal with mine, and resurfacing old habits, I resorted to writing my thoughts and feelings down. My pathetic way of making my words reach someone, because there's nothing left for me. Or nothing apparent enough.
For the longest time, I just wanted to be left alone. I had no need for friends. I was enough. It feels like, now, I'm the one destroying myself.