I’m pre-occupied with the fact that I could die and nobody would care. And even if somebody did, for a little while, they would get over it. And the world just carries on. It doesn’t stop. It should stop for everybody, shouldn’t it? Isn’t it incredibly sad that someone can just die and they might not have changed anything or made any difference, so what was their actual point in ever being here in the first place? These kind of thoughts are what’s on my mind at the moment.

To constantly feel this incredibly hopeless. Like I have nothing to look forward to in life and that it will always just be this cycle of crushing blackness. Like nobody would even notice if I wasn’t here. Nobody would even care.

My scales exploded today. Seriously, literally exploded. Not because I stood on them, thank God. That would have been too cruel (but slightly, bitterly funny). It’s an excuse to buy some new ones though. I was getting to that annoying point where you just don’t trust scales any more. I even start to question the measuring tape. Ah, the shitty, relentless monotony of an ED.