I got home from the cafe,
feeling extremely guilty,
not only had I spent time at the cafe,
but I drank two mochas,
shared an eclair with Molly,
and even ate 3 triple choc muffins.
I walked through the house,
trying to avoid the ensuite.
I wasn't going to do it again,
the first time had been that first day,
when I ate the lasagne,
everytime I ate a lot,
I would go rid myself of it,
but now I didn't want to.
The voices in my head argued.
'This is recovery B'
'But you feel like shit!'
'This is helping you'
'Helping you get fat!'
'Food is good'
'It's the enemy!'
'It will make you pretty again'
'Bones aren't pretty'
YOU ARE READING
desserted (brooklyn's story)
Ungdomsfiksjonshe didn't mean for it to happen, she stopped eating, not because she was fat, she knew she was already small, still didn't stop her from making comparisons though. (first book in the 'small' series. based on my own experiences)
