On The Verge

The emotions pile on and on and on. Anger and frustration and sadness and anxiety and stress and fear. On and on and on am I swathed in irresistible urges to hurt myself, to binge, to cut, to do something worse. On and on and on it goes. It’s an endless hurt mapped by scars and stretch marks and bones and harsh memories that hide in the dark recesses of my brain where nobody will find them, because they’re too dark even for me, and the best way to deal with all the bad stuff is to suppress it.

On and on and on I repeat myself. I hate this. I can’t do this. I hate this. I’m never going to get better. I’m a failure. I’m a worthless. I’m fat. I’m ugly. I’m stupid. I’m a failure. I’m worthless and fat and ugly and I deserve to die. Kill me.

I hate this.

I can feel it deep within my soul: I’m on the verge of a breakdown. I’m reaching the point where I snap, the point of no return, where stomachs become concave and bones appear in new places and the muscle I worked so hard to rebuild fades away against a backdrop of malnutrition and starvation. Ana calls to me, louder, murmurs become shouts that are impossible to block out.

Just breathe, they say, as if it’s easy.

Just don’t, they say, as if it’s possible to just get out of bed on the difficult days, to just stop myself from cutting, to just eat, or to just stop binging – to just get better.

It’s not fucking easy.

And as I lay here, alone in the dim light of my laptop with the faint noise of the highway that reduces our rent, and the sound of my housemate watching Netflix in the next room over, I wish I could cry, but I can’t. I want to scream, but I can’t. I want to burn something or punch something or run into traffic or just run and keep running, into the cars or into the ocean or into the night and just. keep. running.

I’m on the verge.

My toes dangle over the precipice between the facade I uphold, and the other side. Chunks of facade are falling away like rock on a shaky cliff face. Each time my toes dangle further over the edge, and I am closer to falling.

The breakdown is coming. I can feel it.

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