Wish

I wish I could describe how hard this is.  I wish to eat.  I wish to go to the Olive Garden and order dish upon dish.  I wish to drive to the grocery store and purchase a buggy full of macaroni and cheese, butter, and milk and spend the rest of my days consuming, consuming, consuming.  I wish to numb my pain away, but the pain I'm feeling is stemming from I don't know where.  I wish my parent to tell me what to do.  I wish to go back in time to the appropriate age where your parents dictate your life, and for mine to do just that.  To tell me to stop, to tell me to go to therapy, to not make me feel guilty for the expense of a therapist, psychiatrist, psychologist, nutritionist, blah, blah, blah.  I wish my family to understand the deadliness and destruction of this disease - to watch the show "Intervention" and to want to show that much love for me.  Ten years of wishing has led me no where.