Oh boy. Eating disorder in full swing. Self hitting, punching myself in the face, head, and stomach until my arthritic wrists are sprained. Put on warm robe, needing to warm up because this is an 'attack'. That's how I have to describe it. All because that A hole won't give me love, the way I need it to feel. It's like this brilliant man has figured out how to push my buttons, so instead of him beating me, I beat myself. Just hiding away from the world, passively praying for something to end. I can't help but let this b****rd get to me.