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My life is pointless. I hate it. It could be worse, I know. I constantly live with the guilt of knowing how awful others lives are. Having travelled in North Africa, I have seen poverty in the extremes. However, in that part of the world, there does seem to be a wider sense of care for the fellow human being.
This is my life. I wake up at roughly 4am. I drag myself out of bed, feed the cat, recover from the cramps caused by laxative abuse.I get dressed by about 6ish. I walk the dog, hoping no one else is around outside that might see me.
I get in, have a shower, dry my hair.I take my medication. Then, I sit. And keep sitting. I do nothing. I often feel my lip wobble, or tears sneaking out of my eyes. I stop that, since I hate crying;it's so ugly.This morning, I eventually cleared up the paper work that had accumulated in front of the sofa over the past week or so.I buy things online, in the vain hope that if I get that it`ll somehow make life better. This is'nt always things for myself. I buy out of my budget gifts for my nephew, sister and mother.
While I sit, I have flashbacks of the rape I lived with from birth to seventeen. I have flashbacks of the 'treatment' I recieved in psychiatric care.
I occasionally catch sight of myself in the mirror. I hate those moments. I am so disgusting.
I saw my Psychiatrist every day for my 15 minutes. She's wasting her precious time with me. I`ve been doomed since birth. I wish so much that I had'nt been rescusitated when I died when I was 17. I think that maybe if I had died, my brother would'nt have commited suicide when he was 17 (he was 9 years younger than me).
I am supposed to babysit my one year old nephew today. How can I? I adore him, but I hate the thought of letting my mask slip and crumbling into a mess of tears when he's reliant on me.
I have PTSD, Anorexia and Depression. These have been there for as long as I can remember. I am 28 now, and have been in 'treatment' since I was 11.
What`s the point?
Elle
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