Family Portrait

I have not desired to self-harm or starve in quite some time but I feel the overwhelming since of suffocating within my own skin coming about like a crashing wave; I'm about to drown. In the same sense, I feel the undeniable numbness of a looming depression, it threatens me like lurking black clouds. 

My parents don't have the happiest marriage; they let things build up and when it bubbles up to its peak, it explodes from their mouths with an unstoppable force like they are spitting spears into each other's hearts.  There are screams of betrayal and hate from both goliaths, and both forget I'm even there, shaking and teary-eyed as I am forced to listen. If only I could have run away from it all. 

I don't much feel like talking anymore, or even existing, my skin itches, begging me to scratch it off and I just want to disappear into the wind, find some place to be happy and find enough love within myself that I can live off of. I don't need other people or this family of mine that's taught me nothing but self-loathing and insecurity.

If I could, I would break every mirror in the house so they could see the truth of their warped faces beneath the facade of happiness. It hurts to know your mother steals from you and your father, and to know that your father is at the point of leaving. 

I think the giving of thanks on Thursday has been reduced to a big feast and forced get together that I, now, refuse to attend. I don't want to eat, and while I promised myself and tried to make it official through the space I put between myself and this blog.. It is inescapable. I will never escape my eating disorder it never goes away, it is a demon with claws so long and deeply gouged into my back that my bones will be the only proof of the scars 

I hurt. And I was an idiot to think I would ever recover.