Just passing time...

Story of my life at the moment; passing time is just the same as treading water really. I am pretty sure that one day, i will look back on this time and wonder why i wasted such precious hours away, wishing away my life, wishing away the world. One day, i am going to look back on this time and realise how lucky i was, how amazing my life was compared to what it will be. Erm. No, i don't mean it how it sounds. What i mean is that i am convinced that one day (assuming i find happiness, which i know is a big ask, but just roll with me) i am going to be sat on my porch, a lifetime of memories captured in photoframes that wallpaper the whole house, and i am going to wonder, 'why?'.
Why, when i have all of my immediate family alive, do i barely see them?
Why, when i am still in my youth, do i lock myself away from the world?
Why, when i can achieve so much, do i achieve so little?
Why, when there is life ahead of me that is ready to be explored, do i wish it to end?

I am never going to know the answer to these questions and i want to. I want to know why i cannot get myself up and get myself going. Why is it that i could probably stay home for weeks on end, as long as i had a constant supply of ice lollies, laxatives and fizzy pop? I know that my disorder is dictating everything i do right now and i know that it is the small part of 'me' that is breaking through into my fingertips. That feels like the only part of 'me' that is true right now.

Like, you know when you have that moment, like in The Lovely Bones, when Susie captures a moment on her camera, where she sees her 'real' mother. Where she realises that a moment, caught so beautifully on a piece of film, can live on forever, etched in our minds, on our hearts and dictating the people around us subconsciously. It shows that the perfect mask cannot be up all day, every single day and that sometimes, the real us is seen and we can be completely unaware?
The 'real' me is the opposite of that. You will see the 'real' me when the tears are welling up in my eyes and when i am crying on your shoulder. You will see the 'real' me when i look up to the stars and my face forgets to mask the pain in my chest. You would see the 'real' me if you were to see how i am up at stupid-o'clock almost every morning, with extreme stomach pains from the laxatives i remembered to take. You would see the 'real' me if you were to see the pain i feel when i wake up at the same time in the morning and realise i haven't taken the laxatives i planned on taking and that i am now in a blind panic to find some. You would see the 'real' me if you were to realise just how much my mind is controlled at the moment. You would see the 'real' me if you were to realise just how many plans i have to avoid, change, cancel and lie my way out of, for the sake of my eating disorder.

I am scared.