"Was a really great job..." Ajay corrected and didn't feel like pointing out that he was now an unemployed mess. "I don't know entirely. We were given a whole pile of leaflets on it, but I think Billy took them home to study it when he should be studying his lines. He just got a part in a Broadway show. Footloose. It's opening soon. The doctor says I would have had it and taxing myself the way I did over and over pushed into the dangerous zones. I feel like crap all the time, I guess I didn't notice. Or the crap feeling makes me feel in control. I know, it's mental. I... I can't really explain it without it sounding mental. Maybe that's why I don't generally explain anything. But this... thing. It's to give all the inflammation inside a chance to settle, and also to take the control of food away from me," he added, gesturing to the feeding system.
He shrugged. "You can sit there and quote the whole eating disorder psychotherapy manual to me, what I don't need to feel or why, but that doesn't stop the part of my brain making me think all these things. I wish it did, because then I'd be fixed about a billion times over. I know people don't really know what to say to me, so they err on the side of caution of either telling me there's help out there or that I shouldn't feel ashamed of it. People shouldn't take meth or have unprotected sex, but they still do, don't they. I know it's an illness, and I know I'm sick. I've just spent years being accused of deliberately not wanting help because I like playing the victim, or that I'm an attention-seeker, or even something disgusting like having a vomit fetish. I don't make myself sick because I like it. It's punishment for over-eating. And I've spent years avoiding mirrors because all I see is fat, and thinking everyone else sees fat. Just... gross fat everywhere. Sick and struggling folk would reach out for help. Mentally ill people? Seem to do the opposite. I'm not deliberately countering everything you're saying here. Just... if you're genuine about all this, you need to understand what it's like to live in my head. I'm trying to fight this. I really am. But I keep tripping and screwing up. I just have to keep trying. I'm not used to having anyone... well, focus on me, I guess. I usually hate anything focussing on me. Like it's wasted."
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He shrugged. "You can sit there and quote the whole eating disorder psychotherapy manual to me, what I don't need to feel or why, but that doesn't stop the part of my brain making me think all these things. I wish it did, because then I'd be fixed about a billion times over. I know people don't really know what to say to me, so they err on the side of caution of either telling me there's help out there or that I shouldn't feel ashamed of it. People shouldn't take meth or have unprotected sex, but they still do, don't they. I know it's an illness, and I know I'm sick. I've just spent years being accused of deliberately not wanting help because I like playing the victim, or that I'm an attention-seeker, or even something disgusting like having a vomit fetish. I don't make myself sick because I like it. It's punishment for over-eating. And I've spent years avoiding mirrors because all I see is fat, and thinking everyone else sees fat. Just... gross fat everywhere. Sick and struggling folk would reach out for help. Mentally ill people? Seem to do the opposite. I'm not deliberately countering everything you're saying here. Just... if you're genuine about all this, you need to understand what it's like to live in my head. I'm trying to fight this. I really am. But I keep tripping and screwing up. I just have to keep trying. I'm not used to having anyone... well, focus on me, I guess. I usually hate anything focussing on me. Like it's wasted."