Cheerio’s & Fruitloops: Dangers in the Pantry and my ED.

Two years.

Two years since I decided that I couldn’t live like that anymore.

Two years since I started facing one of the hardest parts of who I was.

Two bloody years.

I had gotten to a point in my eating disorder that I could no longer imagine my life without it. As if my ED had finally made itself a formal extension of me.

No, screw that.

Two years since I stopped letting my ED control my every movement, plan my schedules, and run my life.

Crap, I Dropped My Inspiration.

‘Inspiration’

As in, where the fuck has my inspiration gone?

As in, I’ve worked for the last 6 years of my life studying towards a degree but what the fuck is happening now that I am about to graduate?

The; dun dun naaa, what the heck is next? And can I actually be bothered doing what I have been doing for the last however many years?

I call this the clarity after the ‘working haze.’ And it has nothing to do with clarity at all. In fact, it is quite literally the opposite. It is, rather, a haze of insecurity, a clouded sense of self; and a very misappropriated motivation.