I hate that I didn’t know 

I hate that I didn’t know that there was more than one way to self harm

I hate that I don’t have to cut to hurt myself 

I hate that my bad sleep habits might have something to do with it 

I hate that i can’t ignore it 

I hate it. 

I deteste the fat on my arm pits 

I deteste the way my stomach growls before the hunger turns to numbed out exhaustion

I deteste the sick feeling I get when I know I might not actually be okay 

I deteste that I told my brother that i just eat very little, when the reality is that I starve myself 

Day, night, sunrise to sundown 

I deteste that i lied to him, That I lie to myself about my problems 

I deteste that I call it happiness, living on the high 

I deteste. 

I know that I’m probably not okay 

I know that I will either live until 90 or 20 

I know that others have it worse but maybe i'm secretly in pain and hiding it from myself 

I know all that,

I swear. 

I do. 

I hate that I get stomach aches a lot 

But i just say its from coffee and period aches 

I hate that my dad said I will get high blood pressure and depression if i don’t stop

Because I know it's true 

I just can’t stop 

Killing myself, maybe 

Draining myself, definitely 

Hurting myself, I won’t admit 

Living on the high, I pretend to be 

I wish that i was different 

I wish I lived my lies 

I wish I could stop thinking about my faults 

Because then maybe I could live with pretending to be normal

Because starving yourself is normal, right?

Not sleeping because it feels too good to give up is normal, right?

I hope so, because i'm living on the high and if I die by 20, I'll hate myself 

Hate myself into falling back into that depression, just like dad said 

I hate that I didn’t know that it would get like this 

I hate that I didn’t predict it 

And most of all, 

I hate that I knew all along, but that I didn’t care enough to change 

Because I will kill myself before i admit to being in pain