I will not get better. I will not gain weight. I want to remain below the weight qualifications for a proper anorexia diagnosis. Without that, I have no chance of getting into rehab. I’ll never be broken enough, or sick enough, or scarred enough, or unstable enough. Then I won’t get to be surrounded by people who finally understand me, and who cheer me on through my victories and comfort me through my losses. People who hold my hand every step of the way, and care about my well-being. I need to stay thin and perfect to have any of that. All I want is that. Fuck.