I binged to purge and recieve that empty, weightless feeling. To see my ribs poke through where they didn't when my tummy was stuffed with pounds of food. I craved that.. that.. sick feeling.
And now I don't remember what it feels like not to have it.
And now i don't know why I binge and purge.
In fact.. I don't know why i do anything.. because I don't know who I am.
Fear of everything sets into to this unsettled world and you're left with what they call clinical depression. A quote I read today.. No further evidence is needed to show that "mental illness" is not the name of a biological condition whose nature awaits to be elucidated, but is the name of a concept whose purpose is to obscure the obvious. Thank you for stating my mind in words that make sense, whoever you are who wrote these words. Clinical depression is the admittance of the the most probable reality.
Days like these.. lives like these.. can't wait until death. Can't wait until nothingness.
And then some things make the unhappy intervals almost worth it - they make depression almost.. contradict itself. But when those things, those people, those times, those environments - are gone.. you're left 10 ft. deeper than you were before. For all you know, you've just travelled through the pit of the earth and out the other side .. sooner or later with the potential to be popped out into space.
Clinical depression -
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