A Cupful of Sugar

I store a large amount of sweets in my room.

I don’t share them and I don’t eat them, at least I rarely do. No, I just look at them every once in a while. “Look” isn’t really the right word. I would have to say I gaze, or observe, or examine.

I know I’m not going to eat any of them, but I can’t give them to someone else because they’re mine. I’m not allowed to eat the sweets but it makes me feel better that I have access to them so I can obsess about eating them.

Does that make any sense?

No, because it’s an illness.

I didn’t start off 2014 the way I truly wanted to. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let this affect me again. But in truth I’ve rarely eaten and if I do it’s a waste anyway because it never gets digested.

Like I said, it’s a little difficult to understand because it doesn’t really make sense but that’s truly how I feel.

I can help others, but can someone help me?

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