corrosion

2/16/2026

(content warnings: eating disorder, self-harm, suicide mention, potentially more i can’t tell sorry)

y’know how i said i wouldn’t text first? yeah, that ended pretty fuckin quick

the same day i posted my last entry, i got very drunk and messaged them sometime after midnight - not normally of course, ohhh no, i made them a goddamn youtube playlist with a whole-ass essay as the description. it was lengthy and accusatory and quite frankly disgusting. i regret sending it to them at all, it’s inexcusable no matter what state i was in.

they did finally come pick up their clothes the next day though, so i suppose that’s something. when i finally saw them face-to-face, they said they’d “probably text in a couple days to check in.” it’s been over a week, and i’ve heard nothing.

honestly, it’s my fault if i ever believed that - they rarely kept their word while i was supposedly their ‘priority,’ why would they follow through now? some part of me is grateful they haven’t reached out, since i’m not sure i’d be able to practice civility. the other part of me (the naïve one) feels stupidly betrayed all over again. none of it makes sense.

i’m basically condemned to residential now, as both my therapist and nurse have recommended it. i’m resigned at this point since i continue to decline while at home; i don’t want to go per se, but i see no other option. i’m still concerned about accommodations for neurodivergence and my gender identity, though my therapist has assured me that conditions have improved since most of the accounts i’ve read. i can only pray she’s right.

as always, i am torn between blind optimism and near-suicidal pessimism. i constantly fantasize about who else i may find in the world - a gay man who validates me against all odds, or perhaps a transfem who wants kids + can treat me right this time (not to imply all trans women are bad, i’m just being negative about my ex yet again which is probably at least slightly bigoted, maybe i should cut again)

if you hadn’t already guessed, dear reader, i’m rather drunk as i write this. i saw my nurse through the ED clinic last wednesday and now i’m irrationally terrified of withdrawal, thinking every headache i experience is the precursor to a seizure. it isn’t, and on some level i know it isn’t, though i still worry constantly as is the nature of OCD. i feel so fucking stupid.

i want love. i’m ruminating on conversations i had with them, and at one point they expressed to me that their own self-esteem issues were what made them feel like they were failing as a partner - to indirectly quote, i had supported them so well when they struggled, so they felt distressed when they couldn’t do the same for me. in retrospect, i don’t think i actively did much; i was just there and that helped. i let them set the pace, guide our progression, and it seems that was most helpful for them. in contrast, they were always trying to do specific things for me, and that was more of a detriment. all i wanted was for someone to listen, yet they seemed allergic to the mere idea. i regret ever asking.

i’m afraid i don’t deserve the life i want. i yearn for a stable partnership - marriage, kids, the whole nine yards - and i don’t know if i can ever get that. C wanted marriage, but not kids. A seemed to want both, then suddenly the concept of the future scared them and they left; oversimplification to be entirely clear, this is just the framework i’m using.

i know it’s extremely juvenile to make sweeping conclusions about my whole life based off of two relationships, one of which only lasted a few months, though i feel hopeless right now. maybe residential would help, but i fear i’d be revolting to anyone who laid eyes on me if i weren’t bone-thin. yes that’s the anorexia talking, yes i’m still afraid. being self-aware is the worst.

i’m so fucking tired. i don’t want to die, not really, but i don’t want to be here anymore. i feel so alone, and i know i’m not - i have my parents, a couple friends, my therapist - but aren’t i? the sole person i spoke to all-day everyday left like it was nothing. that isn’t a fair assessment, though it’s how i feel.

somewhere out there, there is an alternate timeline where i ended my life prior to eighteen, and i can’t help wondering if everyone i’ve encountered would be better off then. i won’t do anything about it, but i’m starting to think the answer might be affirmative

~april