He told me that I would be punished,
and he was right.
I lived with the blood
and the violence a secret.
I never broke the rule again.
I never sat at a table and ate with them again.
But that wasn’t enough.
I fed him.
And was punished again.
Every time I eat or even admit that I want to eat
I am punished.
No one can convince me otherwise.
I can’t convince myself.
Today was the last straw.
I once joked about ending my life with a straw,
but all those that would understand the joke are dead.
If I can be strong I can escape this cycle.
It’s as easy as self control. No razors.
No jumping off the fifth floor for the security cams to record.
Just a choice.
I will not be punished like this again.
You can not hurt me for something I didn’t do.
I’m not trapped.
I can do this.
Written by Jason Wright
September 18, 2014
This is what a nervous breakdown looks like. I hit a wall. I stopped eating. I didn’t eat any solid food for more than 3 months. I stopped working. I went on short term disability and applied for long term disability, which I did get; it took about 3 years I think. But this is when the PTSD hit me and nearly broke me. Nobody could convince me to eat or that it was going to be okay. I’ve come so far since this day.