I deserve it.

Four minutes and sixty calories have emerged from my body and life now. 

Yes, stupid gym. 

Seventy three and five minutes. 

I can have up to forty minutes of pure exercise. 

What can I say? My relationship with mehtal illnesses and especially eating disorders have affected me. 

I did fifteen minutes in the end [I could continue, I just wanted to clean off the sweat and allow others use the machine] and burnt the awesome amount of two hundred and twenty six. 

It's ten PM now and I'm writing because I can't fall asleep. 

So fuckers, the thought of "why am I still so unhappy even if my life is perfect and I am grateful for them?" Just made me toss and turn endlessly. 

I have thought a little of it and it's the simple and irritating answer "I deserve this" and "I don't deserve this" as one. 

You see, the perfection of loving parents, great education, the awesome combination of genetics have made me have these abilities that allow me to go to ram and the sports class and have a social life while still having a backbone. 

And I got these great friends, and espacially Dabush. 

I'm so fucking lucky to have him, each time that he sees me, he hugs me, but not these fake hugs that just make me feel fake, feel like I'm fake, unreal. 

His crushing hugs, it's makes me want to cry sometimes from the amount of kindness his precious soul contains. 

But then, I don't deserve that goodness. 

I deserve to rot up in the gutters, suffer from living among decaying cat bodies and putrid leftovers and rubbish. 

This goodness is some sort of a hell to me, it's too good and I don't deserve to have it, it's the prettiest torment that Ii can come up with. 

So the fact that it has its way into making me miserable, makes me deserve it, this pain I feel, I deserve it. 

Oh, how I long for slashing open my stupid and filthy skin. 

And make all of my desirable agonising fantasies come into life. 

The "sane" cut between the ribcage bones. 

And the macabre beautiful thought of cutting my fingers vertically, how beautiful. 

I feel like a shadow of myself. 

Almost impossible considering my mood during the day, I was pretty fine. 

Why am I rocking back and forth?

How can it possibly soothe me?

Why should I be soothed?

I'm calm. 

I'm okay. 

I need to die. 

Is it a silent prayer? If so, to whom? 

Who the fuck will save me if I don't even want to get help now?

I want to fucking weep. 

To sob away the sorrow. 

My back hurts. 

I can't stop rocking. 

Maybe I just don't want to. 

I should be asleep by now. 

Instead, I lie uncomfortably eatan alive by guilt and shame.

Fake Your Death is now on. 

I want to be held now. 

By someone that doesn't even care if he won't understand. 

One that it won't matter to him why I'm crying. 

But fairytales ain't going to happen, just like ridiculous teenage-romance-novel bullshit I've got going in my little mind. 

I want people to insult me. 

I want to be abused emotionally. 

I want that a person will truly tell me how revolting I am. 

Because I am a horrendous person and I deserve to have people tell me so all the time. 

A reminder of how much I deserve pain, that I'm unlucky because I can't die just yet, I deserve to suffer as long as I shall breathe. 

I want my bones to be broken. 

I want to be unable to physically get good scores and exercise at all, I want to suffer under so much pain that I won't be able to think straight and I'd fail every single exam is take. 

I deserve to suffer. 

I deserve to be nothing. 

I deserve it.