I think about all the thoughts that go through my head. Of how ugly I am. How unworthy I am. How stupid I am. How I'm a bad student, a bad friend, a bad girlfriend. A bad person. How I don't deserve to eat. How I deserve to throw up. How I deserve to have bags under my eyes. I am unworthy of having people talk to me or look at me. When I run too fast and too hard, passing everyone at the track, going faster than the jocks, and I feel sick, all I can think is "you deserve this, you fat lazy bitch, you deserve this pain, you deserve the shame of having to throw up in the locker room, you deserve it all". When I see people eat, I analyze what they look like, how much they're eating. When I see the girls who are clearly anorexic running ever so slowly at the track because their bodies are broken from malnutrition, all I can think is that I'm unworthy of their bodies because I don't suffer nearly enough. When I slice angry, hateful words into my calves, I know that I deserve them. I told my shrink a fraction of these thoughts, not even one percent of what goes through my head, and I told him with a smile and a laugh as if it meant nothing. He stared at me. Shocked. Speechless. Because apparently it isn't normal to think this about yourself. Apparently it isn't normal. Huh. Apparently it isn't normal to track all the calories going in and all of them going out. Apparently people don't do that. Huh. I haven't told anyone that I spend hours reading blogs of girls starving themselves and looking at pictures of girls where we don't even see their faces, just their bodies. Because I don't think that that's normal. I don't think that it's normal to spend dozens of minutes in front of the mirror pinching and pulling at myself. I don't think that normal people do that. It takes a lot of self-loathing to spend hours a week leaning over a toilet bowl. It really does. It takes strength and anger and self-hatred like most people never experience. I don't think most people hope for nothing but sleep, forever and constantly. Not dreams; just a hollow, empty sleep that never ends and that I would never have to wake up from. When you're 20, I don't think that that's supposed to be all that you could ever ask for. That and being thin. I don't think so.