Not enough

Every time I weigh myself I brace myself for the never ending feeling of not being small enough. At the end of the school year I was 114 lbs, and by the middle of summer I dropped 9 pounds to 105. I was ecstatic, and stopped paying attention to what I ate as much because I'd tell myself 'it's summer!', or, I lost 9 pounds, I deserve a treat. Now I'm 109 and I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. All I've ever wanted was to be skinny. It's my goal, I want a flat stomach like models and a thigh gap and all that sad shit people say I shouldn't worry about but I do because I can't fucking help it. I used to be skinny. I used to be underweight because as a kid I had an eating disorder and nearly everything I ate came right back up. I lived my childhood believing I would always be skinny and that isn't the case. While I still have a small frame I have this annoying stomach and I swear if I could just cut it off I would in a fucking heartbeat. Fucking Dave Franco could tell me I looked great and I'd still think I looked like shit because I hate what my image is now. I'm tired of passing mirrors and tearing up. Cringing. Sighing. I want to be skinny and perfect more than anything in the world. Anything. I just don't want to end up doing anything harmful to get there.