I suppose I was a fool to believe that I would be worthy of forgiveness. Repercussions of my actions; make my bed and all that. Still, it hurts and proves to the voices that they were right; that I was truly a fool to think and believe.
But enough of cycling between crying and distracting. Hunger is the one sensation I can’t fight. If only I could only be a depressed starving person instead of filling the hole with food. I tell myself that it’s better than alcohol or drugs, but I wonder if it is really.
If I could just cross that line of lying to myself that I’m happy and believe it. Why can’t I just jump into the gaping hole and let the lie just wash over and consume me?
