My parents asked me why I was depressed, and I said I wasn't, and believed myself right before saying it. It's odd how some lies can be believed until they leave that bitter taste in the mouth... is a lie a lie because it is not 'true,' or because someone does not believe it is true and says it anyway? There is a difference. One leaves a lie as an entity that can exist without propulsion. One makes a lie only the product of conscious intent.
The English language is so ambiguous. Life is anyway.
I started crying today at my therapy session, which I have not done in a very long time. I'm so good at being an armadillo, but sometimes I'll leave some corner of me open, and all the pain diffuses in and I can't breathe. I'm not sure if my therapist does it to me or if I do it to myself. Anyway, I told her I am not so sure it is possible to recover from an eating disorder, I told her I keep trying, but only in cyclic motions, only sine waves, no inverted exponential decay intact to make one amplitude higher than the last. I don't understand why I can't see from the top of those crests that the waves are all the same length, repeating forever into oblivion.

I told her I don't want it to be a part of me... I want it to be personified, something I don't have to be ashamed of, something I don't have to believe in because there's never a way to be positive that it's not all in my head when I am the one creating it.
Years ago, when it first started, I didn't understand. I wanted it for attention, at the very first, and then control. And then I lost control and everything was... gone. Now I am left here, empty, facing this dualism in my life, the huge gap between the world as I want it to be, and the world as it is; the truth in my head, and the lies in my mouth.

She said there has to be a way.