I wake up and I’m sad that I get to live another day, I want to fall back asleep. I go to the bathroom and I’m unable to recognize my face in the mirror. Sometimes, I’m unable to recognize my parents’ faces. Feeling as if they’re not quite “real.” 

I eat my breakfast normally but I count my calories. 100 calories in total for breakfast. Maybe I’ll restrict today. Maybe I won’t. It depends on how much of a fat cow I really feel that day. 

After I eat my breakfast, I study. I get bored easily and think about how much cooler it would be to be talking to my fp. 

I talk to my fp instead, my fp is tired of me already and won’t respond. I think. In reality, he is just taking a shit. “Why are you doing this to me?” I dramatically text him then I declare my love for him. He rejects me. 

That’s it. No more eating today for me. He rejected me because I’m not good enough. I go to the park and contemplate suicide. 

I return to my house and I cut. The cut is deep enough to remind me that this is my house and not some other clone’s house. It’s my house and this is me in the mirror. I am real. I am real. I am real. 

I think a bit about my fp before I fall asleep, wanting to hear from him the first thing in the morning. Of course, I never do. Because my fp always abandons me. Because I will never find love because I’m a person with bpd. 

And I want to kill myself. 



