Too good a life

"When I look at the starving children in africa, I jsut want to cry.. I mean, why can't I be that skinny?"

I can't take myself seriously sometimes. It's like, all of my problems, all of all of our problems, appear out of boredom. Luxury issues, that appear because we don't have anything real to be unhappy about. Got a bed, so why not develop a sleeping issue. Got a family, so why not get divorced. Got food, why not develop an eating disorder.

This way of thinking makes all of our problems seem so insignificant and unreal, like we could just snap out of them any time. But we can't. I can't, at least. I just hate myself for being so useless about it, I don't feel like it's worth dealing with because it's not real. As for my problem, it's not really a problem, it's more of a habit nowadays. It's only lately that it's interfering with my life that it bothers me. I spend time engaging in it that I should spend doing school work or with friends, I get so tired all the fucking time, I don't get periods I just kind of bleed now and then and worst of all I think is the cough, the cough that hurts so much and makes it taste like blood in my mouth from all the wounds I've clawed up in my throat.

See, here's me again, feeling sorry for myself, when I have everything I need to be happy.

I am happy.

Until I have something to care for, something being my reason not to slowly kill off my body.

Because I do get worried when the symptoms of my ED are the same as if there was something else... Something to care for.

Highly unrealistic, but still theoretically possible and a very scary thought.

x

/E