It was a dangerous obsession.
With each bite, I became more and more of a failure.
All I wanted was to feel thin.
Through my twisted, deranged eyes, bones were golden.
A defined collar bone. A disgustingly weak wrist. Legs so miniscule that people would stare and whisper to their piers when they laid their eyes on me.
Just the thought of obtaining that body unleashed a disturbing smile across cold, pale face.
Every morning, my first thought was "How many hours will I go today without eating?"
I wanted forever to be the answer.
Nothing made me happier than feeling my body disinegrate and grow more fragile after each passing day.
I would not give up.
Not until I reached my goal.
When I finally had a beautiful, skeletal figure, I would let go.
As I lie here now, lifeless, still, paralyzed, I have never been happier.
All the pain and suffering was for my benefit; It made my flawed wish finally become a reality.
Although I could no longer move about the world and spend each day torturing myself with the revolting food everyone else seemed to enjoy, I was free from the chains that held back from enjoying my life in the only form that would truly make me happy.
I had finally let go.
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