Prologue
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried to tell this story. How many times I’ve wanted to admit to the problems that I was having. How many times that I just wanted to let it out. How many times that I wanted to just scream. How many times that I just wanted to give up. How many times that I just wanted life to be over, because I couldn’t take it.
The voice inside my head controlled me. He controlled what I did. He controlled what I said. He controlled what I ate. He controlled what I drank. He controlled what I wore. He controlled where I went. He controlled every little decision in my life down to whether I was allowed to sleep with a blanket or not even though I was shivering.
I was a walking corpse, a zombie. I looked dead, but no one knew that because I wore make-up all the time. I wasn’t allowed to go outside without having my hair done and make-up on even just to get the mail or walk the dog. No one could see what I looked like underneath.
Most of the time I didn’t want it to stop, because people envied the way I looked. They told me I had so much control, because I was so thin and they wished they could be me. I loved this. ED loved this. People gave us so much attention. When I walked down the hall everyone would stare. All eyes were on me.
As the days go by I can’t even keep count of how many meals I’ve been skipping. How many lies I’ve told. How many people I’ve let down. How can doing something so bad feel so good? It makes me feel so much better about myself, but I’m starting to feel so weak. Every day I don’t know if I’m going to make it. To me it was normal. To everyone else I was slowly killing myself. Years have passed by and now, on my road to recovery, I will share my journey.
This is my story. The story of the monster inside.