There are times when I just want to die. I'm sitting in my pitch black room, the blanket crumpled around my feet, the curtain blowing from the nights' breeze and all I can think about is how much I want to die.

My parents voices filter in through my closed door and I know they're talking about me. About how horrible of a son I am, probably wishing I didn’t exist. They're not the only ones.

Just a second ago I was crying my heart out/ My head was buried in my hands and I was shaking as I tried to quiet down the sobs coming from my throat. I was thinking about how much I want to cut, even as the blood dripping from my wrist falls onto the bed.

Now I'm calmer, but more empty. My mind wanders to all my flaws, as it often does. The main one being my weight. I'm so fat. I know that, everyone does. They ignore it, but it's always there. I want to be skinny so bad. I want my collarbones to be visible and I want my ribcage to protrude from my stomach in a way other people would consider horrifying. I want thin, tiny thighs, to be able to see a gap between them. I want to be small. I want it so bad I feel like screa