hollow

12/11/2025

(content warning: eating disorder)

hunger feels good again. why does it feel good again?

i’ve never really considered myself anorexic; restriction has always felt incidental, something i strived for yet never managed to sustain. binging and purging, on the other hand, has been constant - i used to exercise, then i fasted, and three years ago i began vomiting. it’s all compensation, though the last method proved both most effective in negating calories and easiest to repeat.

regardless, the b/p cycle has been a fixture of my eating disorder. when i restricted, i was either trying not to binge (counterintuitively increasing the likelihood i will by undereating) or punishing myself in wake of an episode. periods of pure restriction were few and far between, often fueled more by depression than anything else. it’s not like that anymore.

i used to not feel hungry; now my stomach growls, and i get that same sick thrill which went through me on day whatever of surviving on tea. i can think of things i’d like to eat, but the thought is more appealing than the reality. denial feels better.

i don’t know why i’m doing this. it’s not a ‘nothing is right but nothing is wrong’ situation either - everything /is/ right, i have a girlfriend who i love, some things are hard but that’s just life. i have no reason to starve myself. i don’t understand.

i’m not losing weight rapidly, about half a pound per week at the absolute most and usually less, but the numbers feel important. i don’t want to become emaciated anymore, it serves none of my goals, yet i relish the sight of my ribcage, my hipbones, my spine. i don’t hate it as much as i should. it's not as scary as it should be.

is this what it feels like? anorexia, weightlessness - my stomach as hollow as my so-called reasoning? i don’t want to binge at all, and it’s concerning. i’d rather pick out snacks for a makeshift advent calendar i’m creating for my girlfriend than think about eating myself. it’ll turn around, i’m sure, but fuck it’s weird.

i’m coming into myself for perhaps the first time and it feels like losing my identity. i thought i knew myself: bulimic, depressed, in a relationship that’s good but not great, stuck. there are possibilities now, and that’s scary. maybe that’s why. hell if i know, i’m just whining.

i want to get drunk, though i’m fighting a migraine so that’s inadvisable. again, no reason, i think i’m bored if anything. the urge to ruin my life over nothing arises once more. ugh. you'd think i would've learned by now.

~april