Porcelain Frame

A look inside the mind of mental illness

This is me. I'm fat. I'm ugly. I don’t want to live any longer. I will. I promised them, all of them. I'm too fat. So I’ve quit eating. I'm done. It's over. I can't eat anymore. It will only make me fatter. Food tastes so good. Food is my worst enemy. I love food. I hate food. I'm going to faint. Constantly, I feel that way. I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to burden anyone. Their lives are already bad enough. that’s why I haven’t told them everything.

They’re the only people I trust. The only people I love. The only people I care about. I can't hurt them with all my problems. So I keep as much as I can to myself. They know. They know I have temper issues, and trouble trusting people. They all know the cause of it to. They want to support me but it just doesn’t help. I don’t know what I would do without them. I probably wouldn’t be alive.

I'm fat. I'm ugly. I'm a b***h. I'm unworthy of breathing. Unworthy of food. I deserve all the pain that I’m forced to live with. And that’s why I cut.

Fat. Ugly. B***h. Stupid. Just a burden. Not worth it. She gets in my head. Tells me lies. But I’ve come to believe them all. So I just stopped. Stopped eating. She took that choice from me. I no longer have the option. I will get there. I will be thin. She took my life from me. It started slow. I just needed to lose a couple pounds and I’d be fine. And I did. So I thought I might as well keep going. So I did. Everyone keeps telling me that I’m fine.

I never believe them. It's only lies. They’re only trying to makes me feel better. They see the thinness that I don’t. In a kind of sick and twisted way I love my bones. They’re so beautiful. I can't see enough of them. But then it grew into an obsession. Now I can't stop. I'm fat. Fat. Fat. Loser. Alone. Worthless. There is no reason for me to be alive. I’ve cut. But I got caught. I wasn’t careful enough. I still get the urge to, but I know if I do I’ll get caught. So I starve more. I'm scared I’ll get caught doing that too. But I do it anyway. I just don’t care anymore. I'm fat. So I must not eat. I hate myself a little more with every single sinful horrible bite.

I cut for many reasons, but it all results back to this: cutting replaces emotional pain with physical pain. I’d rather be in physical pain than emotional pain.

Death. Death is my wish. I don’t want this life. Don’t want to be on this earth anymore. Don’t want to keep living this lie. The lie that I created, the care-free perfectly happy me that everyone else sees. I'm the only one who knows everything. Few people know the real me. Few people have seen through my mask, through my smile. Few people know the me I show no one. No one but them. They still don’t know everything. They care. Knowing more about me would worry them. Their lives are already terrible. They should be focusing on themselves, not worrying about me. I can do this on my own. Get through this. I know I can. I’ve done it in the past. I can do it again.

Loneliness. He left me. She’s becoming more distant. Everyone is. It seems like they are all leaving me. I cry and they know it. Do they try to help? Of course. Does anything they say actually help? Rarely. I'm stuck with a family that makes fun of me. An untreatable mother, whom I never see, and her cheating husband. Stuck living with the fear of everything, everyone out to get me, the irrational pain or full blown numbness. But I have to keep faking a smile, keep pretending. Pretending everything’s alright. That everything is perfect. But my life is anything but perfect. Some people think it is. They don’t know the same me I do. I’ve created a perception of myself. The perfect me. But that’s not the real me. Few people know the real me. My only friends.But even they don’t know the whole truth.

It's not ok. We all have so many problems and no one to talk to without fear. The fear of burdening each other with our own problems. We all feel selfish for it. But we all need someone. Sometimes we need to worry about ourselves, it feels selfish, and maybe it is a little bit, but it's something everyone needs to do. You feel like if you were gone no one would notice. You feel every time you open your mouth about what’s going on and how you feel, you feel like you’re being a bother to others. Sometimes you just need to let yourself talk about it, let yourself cry. You just need to let it out for a moment.

They wait for darkness. They wait for me. For me to turn out the light. that’s when they come out. Surrounding my bed. They feed off my fear, my tears. I try to ignore them. Its difficult. They never truly leave my mind, my sight. The lights make them fade, make them transparent. But I know they’re there. Never leaving. Killing me. They talk. I see their mouths moving but I never hear their words. They never leave.

But I should. I want to. Right now I should just...