Worlds of Daffodils

That's my favourite flower.

I'll be 18 in 502 days as of right now.

I found this song due to my obsession with Jeff the Killer and it really sums up my mother and I's relationship:

If you don't feel like listening, the main part I identify with:

"You lie silent there before me

Your tears may mean nothing to me now

The wind howling at the window

The Love you never gave

I give to you

Really don't deserve it

But now there's nothing you can do

So sleep in your only memory of me

My dearest mother

Here's a lullaby to close your eyes (goodbye)

It was always you that I despised

I don't feel enough for you to cry (oh well)

Here's a lullaby to close your eyes (goodbye)"

My mother and sister are going to Arkansas to visit my brother, who is back from Afghanistan, and I am supposed to go, but the physical ache I feel prevents me from even thinking about it. I am physically terrified to leave the house because I am so self-conscious of my body and how grotesque I feel. I honest to G-d feel morbidly obese, when I look in the mirror I see a 300 pound girl, and I feel all the fat on me--I feel the fat inside of me; 

I don't remember what I look like anymore, all I see is fat and hatred. 

For some reason my disorder has focused some of my obsession onto Jeff the Killer (drawing him), my brain obviously isn't able to handle the constant self-belittlement and needed another outlet/distraction and so I draw him--all the time. For hours. All night, and half of the day because he's the only thing I can draw and drawing is the only thing that brings solace.   

My sleeping is awful, insomnia has taken its hold on me; I want so badly to be normal, I want so badly to understand how people eat without having mental breakdowns afterwards. How are there people that don't hate themselves? How are there people who don't feel or think this way? 

I don't get it, because it seems like this is all there ever is, was, or will be for me--this freaking disorder that makes me neither skinny nor fat but only enlarges my perception of everyone and myself as well as destroying my self-esteem to the point that I feel sorry for everyone who even has to look at me. I feel sorry for my love because he doesn't deserve me, a disgusting shit. I don't even deserve to die, I just shouldn't even exist, I'm nothing but a waste of space and growing anxiety.

I'm annoying and I complain too much; I'm depressed and I don't even know why anymore; 

Is this the normal psyche for a sufferer with an ED? I feel like a freak, I feel like other girls with EDs are skinny, beautiful and happier--and that they'd all make fun of me for being so outlandishly weird and over dramatic. I'm too fat to have an ED, so worse yet I feel like everyone wants to just scream at me that it is all in my head and I'm making it up.