I have been contemplating my fascination with ED blogs. I'm hesitantly willing to admit, the more sick a blogger is, the more interested I become. I hate myself for this, but it's the truth. I desperately want these people to recover, to be healthy, to love themselves. My heart breaks at their suffering.
Still... A little voice, hidden in a dark corner of my brain, wants them to get worse. Wants them to continue down the path of destruction. I want to know how far down the rabbit hole goes. I want to compare myself to them. I want to see how far I still have to go. I want to know what it takes to kill myself with an ED. I want. I want. I want.
I live in a sick, sick world and it kills me that I'm not the sickest one. I feel like a marionette, with my ED controlling the strings.
It took me two days to post this. I always sabotage my friendships with the truth. Do my best to push them away before they see the real me. There is such thing as too much honesty. You think I'd know where that line was by now.