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Sunday, 09 August 2009

  • dreaming

    There's nothing for it. I'm just going to pick up the pieces and start over....again. It disgusts me how often I have to do this. I'm doing well for days, a week, two weeks. And then I ruin everything I've worked so hard for with a binge. Then purge. Then repeat. I can b/p for days. And it takes an enormous effort to bring myself back, remotivate myself for what must be the hundredth time in my life, and hollowly convince myself that THIS time I will be good. I will be perfect.

    I'm desperate to be smaller. Desperate. I feel awkward and large in this body. And I want to-no I WILL-be delicate.

Saturday, 08 August 2009

  • Dissassociation

    Here I am, living in the world, but not belonging to it. I don't belong here. I don't want to belong here. I was going to starve today, but ended up binging. Not because I was stressed out. Or because I had eaten something triggering. Or because I was so hungry I couldn't hold off any longer. I just don't care. I knew my parents wouldn't be home, I got my paycheck early, and I was alone. The stars aligned, and I didn't even try to talk myself out of a binge. I think the grand total came to:
    -2 pastries
    -2 donuts
    -blackberry milkshake
    -grilled ham & cheese sandwich
    -small order of fries
    -large order mcdonalds fries
    -small oreo mcflurry
    I clogged the toilet (again thank goodness my parents weren't home!) and feel horribly sick. While I was driving in the car back home, I had a thought with eerie clarity that I could so easily just die. I was so apathetic and disconnected from myself, the world, all reality that I saw a clear pathway open up. It would be so easy. I was past feeling or caring. I could eat myself into an early death. Eat until my stomach expanded, and stress my heart enough to stop it. Obviously, I didn't--I'm still here. But the fact of the matter is that I am slowly killing myself. I'm numbing myself to the pain, and accepting my written fate.

    Again, I'm sorry this is so depressing, it was just an interesting revelation. I'm not suicidal, really, just extremely apathetic.

Tuesday, 28 July 2009

  • Confession:

    For the first time in over a month (since June 15th to be exact) I cut myself. Five cuts. Three light, playful, short. Two angry and deep. In neat rows on my thighs, where I'm sure they will fade and join in the neat ranks of countless pale scars on my thighs.

    I also binged and purged three times today. It took a lot of effort to eat and purge too, since Seattle has been caught in a freak heat wave with 95º weather and promises for 101º on wednesday. I don't even know anyone with air conditioning. I haven't worked out in the slightest the past week, and have either eaten very little (and very healthily) or--such as today--all the fat and carbs I could wrap my hands--or mouth--around. Sick. Disgusting. I think my pent up frustration and twisted emotions surrounding failure broke me down. I cried in the car while I drove around aimlessly. I yelled and sobbed at God. I know he loves me and cares for me. But that is in the same mindset that I know I'm not fat.

    The overwhelming part of my mind that tells me that I am a failure, that I am fat and repulsive, that part of me is screaming that God is indifferent. I wish I could plug my ears and block it out. But I can't. I just feel so...forgotten. Remember me, God. Remember your daughter. I just want to leave this Hell and go home to be at peace with my father in Heaven.

    (Sorry this is so depressing. I've been going through a rough time.)

Saturday, 18 July 2009

Sunday, 28 June 2009

  • Contradictions

    I live a life of contradictions. Or lies. Or....confusion. I want many things, and yet some result in me getting nothing. It's like there's me, and my dreams and goals for life, and then, underlying the surface that makes me up is a shadow-me, often spiting my dreams, and laughing in the background as I helplessly watch them crumble. Or as I helplessly crumble.

    I want to be smart.
         I'll never be the smartest, accept it, because I can't change it.
    I want to be pretty.
         I'll never be pretty, it's something I have to be born with.
    I want to be thin.
         Then what's stopping me?
    I want to fall in love.
         But it's so much easier to isolate.
    I want children.
         I have no periods.
         ...besides, I would be fat while I was pregnant.
    I want independence.
         I'm scared to be on my own. Alone.
    I want to grow up.
         I wish I was a carefree little girl again.
    I want to be loved.
             I'm not worth it.
    I want to be happy.
         I just want to be happy.


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dianamia

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  • My diet turned into an obsession. An obsession over food, calories, and weight. I want to, but don't know how to stop. I don't even think I'm ready to stop. I just hope and pray that someday I can.

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