I really thought I was better.

Better than being exhausted in every way,

Better than not being able to control my eating,

Better than craving pain,

Craving…

Anything.

Everything.

I thought I was in control.

I thought I’d finally,

_Finally_,

Taken back my life,

My feelings,

My mind.

I guess it was just being loaned to me.

I guess I really didn’t get any better.

Will I fall?

I wonder.

It hasn’t felt like flying,

Then like hitting the ground.

It feels more like I drew a life in the sand,

Drew something real,

Something doable,

Something so realistic,

That I started to believe my drawing.

But then the waves washed it away.

I really thought I was better.