::stupid/ugly/stupid/bitch/stupid/fat/

stupid/baby/stupid/loser/stupid/lost::

i think i weigh about 134. 'round there.when i weighed i had just eaten, and i hadn't taken laxatives in a few days, and... yeah. so i figure i'm there. i'm giving myself a week to get to 129 or lower. if i'm not there by then, well... what can you do but keep restricting and puking? i kind of want to stay self injury free, but i get so frustrated and i hit myself a lot. a razorblade snuck into my pocket. i don't like the sharper ones, i like 'em a little dull, but i'll make due with what i have.

i don't even really count calories anymore. i just kind of graze here and there, have a few bites. estimate it at the end of the day.

to lax or not to lax? i'll figure it out.

"in thirty minutes you'll forget how good that binge felt.

in two hours, you'll still be wishing you hadn't."

fuck.

i feel like i will never be skinny, objectively or otherwise. i'm just covered in fat and i keep fucking everything up.

nine days. nine days, now, to lose as much weight as i can. this means i'll be purging everything, or most everything, that i eat until then. and working out, of course. fmlllllllllllllllllll

i have 10 days to get skinnier for a concert, but it seems like all i want to do is binge and purge, binge and purge, binge and purge.

hm.

i'm at 275 calories for the day.

titleless.

i'm calling the intake for the day 800. that's certainly not good, but as long as it's under 900 i won't hate myself too much. blegh. i don't know... i've been sleeping a lot lately. i used to take sleeping pills or other downers like xanax so i could get to sleep and avoid food. don't wanna get back to that, but. whatever.

out of laxatives. fshajikdoshauiphudsabyhuo.

in other news, i haven't seen my boyfriend in a week and a half, or more. he's working all the time, and constantly tired. iiiii've never needed some crazy sex more than i do right now.

implosions, pauses, irony.

If I keep this in any longer, I'm going to implode. I harbor such an intense frustration for myself - physically, mentally, emotionally - and I don't know what to do anymore. My eating disorder sounds like the perfect solution - but won't that muddle things? Cutting would work, but I'm sick of hiding in that sense. Everyone around me is going so fast and I'm sitting here within these four walls, "stuck on pause". I am in Limbo, between she and him, between life and death, between sickness and health. Everything is so complicated - can't I just sleep for a while, a long, long, while? I read something, somewhere, that said, "I don't want to kill myself, I just want to die."

I hardly have the weight of the world on my shoulders. In fact, I have it fucking easy, but I feel like I can't cut it anymore. I'm sick of being stuck on pause. I'm sick of holding my tongue and my feelings down, where it can fester and eventually boil over. I'm sick of everything, and I'm just so tired. I'm not getting better, I'm getting worse. I need solace, catharsis - gimme a razor, a bottle of ipecac, some benzodiazepines.

I'm so massive, entirely too much all over. Softness. I'd like to whittle everything away, temper myself down like steel.

Everything is fine when I ignore it - when I'm in the company of others. But all I want to do is be alone.

I know that starving isn't the solution. I'll only feel worse in the long run. I'll only alienate everyone I love. I'll only wreck my car crash of a body.

It just feels like the thing to do, right now. I have such a hatred for my body, I'll do anything to take away a bit of the pain. Now I need to work on everything else... It'll be okay, won't it?

I don't want to admit that I'm slipping, again, but I feel like it's imminent. Just a matter of time until I really go off the deep end. I don't know what to do anymore.

I'm on pause - where's play? Or better yet, fast forward?

CATHARSIS.

the stress and uncomfortable situations i've been subjected to lately suck, but for some reason when i'm stressed out like this i never have an appetite. that's a good thing. restricting & purging again.

i'm in a rough spot right now. a friend from high school is staying at my house. she had only hung out with me twice outside of school. the day after the last time we hung out, she called me, crying. her aunt kicked her out because she neglected to check in with her. i told this friend to call my mom, strictly for some advice (not necessarily a place to stay). ended up with her moving in. this was maybe three to four weeks ago?

about three minutes away on foot, a few friends of mine share an apartment. a bunch of other friends visit every day, mostly on the weekends. we have a great time. i love them a lot. but anyway, this friend that's staying with me, we'll call her K, would accompany me to their house (which will be referred to as the pit).

when we're alone together, it's fine. but when we get to the pit, we clash. terribly. she's a loud, obnoxious attention whore - to put it bluntly. i can't have a conversation with a buddy without her jumping in and yelling something. she talks down to everyone and calls me loser. she plays guitar and sings all the time, and i can't hear anything. she doesn't understand my fear and anxiety over certain things, and bitches at me about it (i'm scared of fire, she lit up a propane tank, i asked her to turn it off, and she bitched). it's just getting to be too much. i don't want to yell at or confront her in anyway because she's in a very delicate and shitty situation. i can't imagine being kicked out at 19.

but jesus tap dancing christ, it's killing me.

end rant.

good thing about the day: sushi isn't as caloric as i thought it was. (:

no, no. no. NO

i'm drunk right now.

i just purged for the first time in,what, two weeks? not just to get whatever food - can't even recall - out of me, but just to... regulate my feelings? does that make sense? i don't know. i want to throw up until there's nothing but bloodandbile. i WANT to be sick. i WANT to starve until i'm tired and cold. i WANT to puke and be scared to open the bathroom door. every single second and feature of my eating disorder was, is, comfort to me.

FUCK recovery. i'm not ready. i'm starving, and i'm loving it. go ahead and be disappointed. i don't care right now. i'm so pissed at myself for actually believing i could recover... ana, i'm back. i'm so sorry. i'll try harder this time, i swear.

fuck

it's only a few days into my wonderful, new, recovered life and already i feel like shit about it.

the key, i think, is to just stay distracted. but what if i can't? what if it just seems too easy to starve and puke again?

underweight is looking appealing. idk what i want right now.