Anger

Anger. It washes over me, soaking me in fear and drenching me in knowledge of my ultimate failure. The small plastic bags hangs slightly open. I hear the door to the garage open, and then fall shut again. The footsteps slowly and lazily make their way towards me.
"what are you doing?" the voice asks. For a second, I wonder. What AM i doing?! But my head realizes that I'm acting insane... My mind tranced in its own maze of fear and adrenaline.
I look up. "nothing." i answer. I know my sister must think i'm crazy at this point anyways. I lift two grocery bags and walk inside, trying to decide wether I'm disgusted or excited. Disgusted, i finally realize. But i know i might do it anyways.

The ice-cream stays in the outside freezer. I like it that way, because I'm less likely to lose control when I'm in my garage and the cold ground penetrates my feet, than in the comforting warmth of my own kitchen. So, i take the oppurtunity. I walk the box full of ice-cream sandwiches into the garage, shutting the doot behind me. Anger comes flooding into my expression now that no one is here to see it.
"WHY?! why the hell did she buy this crap?! She KNOWS that its just a source of stress!" i mutter to myself, the words barely audible over my sobs. Shoving the cardboard box into the freezer, I slam the door and stiffly walk tothe full length mirror, hesitantly lifting my shirt to poke and prod at my midsection.
Vanessa, my dietician... she doesn't know shit. She says that since I've gotten my period, that I don't have to gain any more weight. That I can just healthily maintain... Of course, having anorexia, I'm sure this means she's saying "you're fat enough now. stop eating." i an't stand her, always patronizing and hurting me. She has this way of destroying everything my therapist is fighting for. It's hard to see the happiness everyone else sees in me... I must've just become impossible good at hiding it. so good, in fact, that i don't even notice i'm doing it. I'm taking great risk by posting this. It's on the internet. All my personal, deepest darkest feelings... out there for the world to see. If someone should read this that knows me, they could easily hurt me and destroy me. So why am i writing this right now? Because I'm an idiot. Because I'm naivè (spelling?!) and because i feel all my greatest fears are probably relatable to, and someone who shares them shouldn't be alone.

I can't do this anymore. To anyone reading this... anyone who even cares (although i doubt you're out there) I am officially in relapse.