I am officially trapped. And I've done it to myself. Food has wound it's dirty fingers around me and is moulding me into this horrific species of being. And I let it. I'm changing. I can see it. Feel it all around me. I've become so weak. I wished I lived alone. I wish I could be away from it all. I hate it all. I'm further away from accepting recovery than ever. I don't deserve it. I can fatten myself. I'm really just this disgusting creature crying to get out of my small body. And it's succeeding. So quickly. I can feel the fat between my thighs growing, the space decreasing, my stomach sticks out. I want it gone. I want it all gone. I want to disappear. I want the feeling of being hollow. Instead I'm turning into a growing wreck. Fuck this all. I want it all gone. This month has been the worst for me, I've let everything go and I'm so afraid I'm not strong enough to fight back.
This cannot happen to me.