My heart is a graveyard where I buried you deep. But when they talk about love, I swear I feel you scratching on the walls of my chest, trying to break free, struggling to get out.
I think they don’t want me to leave because they want me to keep saying sorry and feel guilty.
Everything is so fucking stressful even going out to have fun is stressful and getting what you want is stressful I can’t cope
I just don’t know whether I need to gain or lose weight. Whether I don’t care how I look or care too much. Whether I like my body or not. I hate this and I hate how I don’t even have the rights to say that I have an ED because right now I don’t even know what’s happening.