But I am perfectly happy in my marriage

In an alternate universe, we would've been married and had kids by now.

I will always wonder about you, and not understand why the stars didn't line up right for us.

Restriction

So I posted on Facebook that I haven't purged in 4.5 months. While this is true, this is by no means an indication that my eating disorder is going away. I've been restricting like crazy. I lost 7 pounds last month. This is helped by the fact that I'm prescribed a stimulant for my Shift Work Sleep Disorder. While I sometimes take it as indicated, I'll fully admit to abusing it. It makes it so I have no appetite, and I pee like crazy, so I pee out a ton of water weight. The problem is that it's not working as well as it used to. So when I see my psychiatrist on Tuesday, I'm going to ask if we can switch to a different one. A friend of mine thinks I should tell my psychiatrist that my eating disorder is getting worse, but I'm getting entrenched. I have no intention of stopping right now.

Quit fucking breathing!

I remember I was 10 years old. It was a winter's day in Arco, Idaho, the hellhole I grew up in until I was 12. My mom had already gone to work, tasking me with waking my oldest brother up for school. He was so hard to wake up, and he threw the truck keys at me and told me to start it. But I was 10, had never been behind the wheel of a vehicle before, and was scared. I told him, and he got really angry with me. 5 minutes later, he was scraping the frost off the windshield, barely getting any of it off. It was cold, 20 degrees, so normally people let the engine heat up so the windows can defrost. Not Bill. Bill, Chris, and I piled into the truck, and instantly, the windows started fogging. Bill screamed at us "Quit fucking breathing, you fat fucks!"

And I tried my hardest to hold my breath. 

Do you know what it's like to be made to feel that you are a worthless human being for having the audacity to breathe? 

I do.