Why can't I be perfect?

I have issues. I have lots of them. How will I survive?
This is the story of Bryony James. A 16 year old girl who is struggling with anorexia and depression.
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3. Hatred

It was beginning again, and it was only the end of February. I felt stressed from exams, controlled assessments and coursework. I felt unable to cope with everything that was going on in my life, not even my amazing supportive friends would be able to help. I didn’t trust them enough, or myself. I couldn’t rely on other people, I wanted everything done properly, efficiently and effectively. I guess I was just an OCD perfectionist.

It began when I felt really upset and depressed; I skipped my lunch, chucking it all away except for some black grapes. I had to stay healthy. I needed a few calories to live off to begin with.

 That evening, I lay in to my arm with a safety pin, my hand ended up with cuts all over it and a tiny bit of blood. There was nothing else I could find. It hurt quite a lot but I felt calmer and happier. It eased away the momentous pain I had been overwhelmed with. It was self-harm though. The scars are still there at the moment, over a month later. You can hardly tell but they’re visible to me. Jasmin and Hayley had already taken the scissors off me that day, seeing that I was going to hurt myself.  Even Victoria seemed disappointed in me then. I wanted Victoria to be happy; she had become the only one who understood me as me. Someone I could act normally around without hurting her feelings.

I had regularly skipped lunch after that, it made me feel good but then I started to feel depressed again, especially when Mollie and Victoria saw my hands. Mollie questioned me and Victoria just listened. I couldn’t do anything without them realising and giving me the third degree. I wanted to live my own life and let the sorrow out in my own way.

 That’s when I wrote this story, to try and explain myself to them and to help them realise what and who they were dealing with. My heart was crying out for help but my brain told me I didn’t need it, that I shouldn’t let it in. I couldn’t face the knowledge I was no longer in control. I didn’t realise then, I still don’t know it half the time now either.

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