I am swamped with a lot of assignments and have been running tons of errands lately, so not much going on, other than the fact that I did go climbing and joined Youth Olympics last last weekend! Along with a trip to Tagaytay the last time haha. I'll try to blog about that soon.

Anyway, like what I said, I've been in and out, still going to campus for officer duties and fixing my requirements for transferring, along with helping my sister enroll. I'm also writing, which pretty much is my life the past few weeks, and I've never felt as productive! Which makes me happy. I think.
I took a quick break from writing, being assigned 12 articles that would probably turn my brain into mush if I did them all at the same time. I guess this can be considered as an exercise, steering clear from technical words and moving towards what I actually feel like writing.

The weeks have been rough, actually. It sucks shifting from one emotion to another in a matter of seconds, then exploding into a mess I can't seem to fix. The pressure of deadlines doesn't bother me really, but the time I waste counting the food I eat. I won't say that this ED has become full-blown, but I believe it just gets worse as the days go by.

I look in the mirror and see no one. I am invisible, disappearing each day as I meticulously count every morsel, every bite, not being able to concentrate until the numbers are balanced and I am now equal, just waiting for my next meal to come.

I sit on countertops, staring at nothing as I try to do the math, making sense of the things I eat. I black out as I stand upright, the head rush getting the best of my body. I start to feel nothing, to be nothing, maybe just convincing myself that I am enjoying when in fact, I am just enabling myself.

Believe me when I say that you do not want the amount of control I have in myself. You do not want the restrictions, the rules, the habits I do in order to make me feel like I'm doing something right. I do not wish this on my worst enemy, and I especially do not wish it on myself. But why do I still continue?

It's as if I were in an abusive relationship, trying to fix open wounds with a bandaid, constantly getting hurt but wanting to stay for the security. I do not want change and I do not want to leave in fear of losing my other half, my identity (If this is even called one).

I am addicted to something I can't quit cold turkey. People say it's harder to quit smoking or alcohol, but I find it easier. How can you quit thinking about a necessity? How can you stop being addicted to something we need to survive on? I get that balance is the key, but...

I don't know.

I love writing. I love going out. I'm happy with what I do, happy that I'm free of the triggers from the past year. But there is one more battle I need to fight, and it still comes with numbers and food.


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