Friday, June 29, 2012


   I am very disappointed.

   I went to my grandmother to avoid food, and guess what? I gained weight. Everyone is against me. My mother brought me food. My grandma cooked tons of food. What the heck is wrong with everyone? why does everyone want to feed me? Maybe because eating is a normal thing, well, NO.

   On Tuesday, I have talked to "my guy" and asked him to go out sometime. He said sure, "maybe tomorrow, we'll see, I'm a bit busy today" and I agreed. Well, let me tell you, we haven't spoken since. I started crying on Wednesday night. I put on the song I listened to after our break up, and I still listen to it. Here it is. And this song  made me whisper screams and hit my bed and scratch my skin, thank God I was home alone. I threw away my phone and the teddy bear I have from him -- I still sleep with it every night. I started crying and couldn't breathe. After that. I watched Army Wives. There was a scene where the camera slowly showed all the couples, some kissing, being happy. I started crying even harder and yelling at them, swearing, asking them why they can be happy with someone and I can't.

   What followed after that was me going into the bathroom and taking my blade. I took my bracelets off. The old scares healed (there was only a red area left, but no scratches or open cuts). I started cutting and cutting and it started to hurt. "This time I'll kill myself. I will cut deep, cut my vein." I cut deeper and deeper, the deepest I have ever cut. Thick, red blood was flowing. I started crying again. I stopped the bleeding and washed my face. "I need Nurofen." But I didn't have any.

   On Thursday, right before my therapy appointment, I bought Nurofen and some more laxatives, just in case. I took the entire 2400 mg Nurofen. I told my therapist all that happened, the cutting and crying and being suicidal and, what she thinks is worst, about the Nurofen. She told me I had a depression, I smiled and said "No, I don't," while I was thinking "Hell yeah I do." I hate admitting that I might have some problems. I hate hate hate. Deny deny deny. she told me I should see the psychiatrist again, I told her that I won't, because she'll say that I am just fine. This happened last time.

    Of course it motherfucking happened. If I only see the psychiatrist a few weeks later, of course the symptoms are all gone and I am feeling better, therefore everyone thinks I am all shiny and happy. It's unavoidable.

   I am home now. I'll go back to my grandma's next week.

   Fuck this shit I need to die go to hell now, now, now, hate hate hate, schizo ocd aspie fuck damn mental illness syndrome all this must be gone i need to die and stop thinking, my mind is racing i have written a poem might post it later, gonna die die die now, can't stop typing can't stop thinking it's so damn warm i am sweaty it's all hot can't motherfucking stop need to stop stop stop post this shit and go kill yourself

Monday, June 25, 2012

Fuckfuckfuck. I ate yesterday, not exactly a binge, but definitely overate (because anything above zero is too much..). As a solution, I took 15 damn laxatives and tried to take in as many liquids as possible. Also, later in the evening, I threw up and filled my toothbrush with blood. My throat was and still is very scratched. I can tell that because even YAWNING hurts. At least I can speak.
The laxatives refused to work until NOW, 8 AM, when I was supposed to leave the house and go to gym. I had to reschedule my entire, perfectly-planned day because of that. SCREW YOU, LAX.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Wonderland again?

   I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe I am actually in control of what I am eating. I can't believe I have set out a plan and followed it, with very little "cheating". Here it is:

*crackers = some kind of low-cal thingy that looks like a cracker but I am not sure what to call it

4 crackers - 96 kcal (24 each)
salad (cabbage, tomato, green onion) - 65 kcal
hot chocolate - 98 kcal
Plain Activia (thank God my brother ate the Fiber one, it had more cals) - 115 kcal
corn flakes (one bowl) - 130 kcal
a few forkfuls of mashed potatoes - 30 kcal
big cracker - 40 kcal
other shit/"cheating"/underestimates (though I think I actually overestimated the above calories) - 200 kcal.

Total: 774
Rounded: 800
What is considered to be "The Starvation Diet": 900.
I have drunk water and coke zero.

   It feels so much to me, but it is lower than the "starvation" diet -- heck, who is starving when eating that amount of food? It is almost Sunday and I have only eaten twice this week, on Wednesday and today. It feels good..
   I need to write. Write write write, write a poem. I need to play with the words again. I am high.

   Meh iz in Wandah-laaaaand!

Friday, June 22, 2012

School is over

   Which is something I am very happy about. Okay, maybe not very happy, because I have got a lot of free time now = boredom = eating too much = fuck, but I have a low-calorie meal plan (later on that).
   I have won a prize at the end of the school year: a diploma and some money. I had curls (who didn't?) and a pretty, white dress. We had a theater play last night 9mom and psychotherapist came) and I ended up with lots of bruises, but I managed to cover them up.

   I will stay at my grandma's for the summer, because I have no control when I am at home. My grandmother has absolutely no junk food in her house, she barely has any food except the one she cooks, which feels "safe" for me. I will go to the gym, do my summer homework (some reading and exercises), I will take the longest walks and, hopefully, go out with B. We have been talking quite a bit lately, and he was the one initiating the conversations. I thought I'd give him some time and space, but it looks like he wants things to be different, too. I hope he does.

   I have also managed to stick to my eating plan for this week: Monday and Tuesday water only, Wednesday eat, Thursday I drunk water and coke zero (and burnt a thousand times the coke calories at the theater play, we sweated like pigs) and today (Friday) was an only-liquids day, not lower than 500 (I think?), but still, they are liquids. I expect a lower weight tomorrow morning.

   The book I finished reading today is Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson. I liked it very much, I liked the way she put the words and showed what a struggle it can be to have an eating disorder. She nearly died - we all feel like dying quite often, on the inside. I do not know if I liked this or  Wasted  more. The latter was an autobiography, it was also quite "triggering" (read: it made me angry because I couldn't bring myself as close to death as the author has brought herself), making me cut exactly 200 times on my ankle, but I turned out alright. I would read it again, because I am not in a binge-purge mode right now. I am in restrict-purge mode, which is a better mode to be in when reading Wasted.

   The next book on my list is "Girl, Interrupted." I have it on my Kindle, it is only 59 pages there, but the writing is so small I can't even read it, so it must be way more than 59 pages. At least double, 160 -something  if I remember well (internet). I also watched the movie today and I quite enjoyed it.

   This is it for now. I will spend my first night of the summer holiday watching Grey's Anatomy and maybe playing the Sims 2, haven't done that in a while. Have a good day, everyone.

Thursday, June 21, 2012


   It took him one week. One week to finally say "Hey" and attach a kiss-smiley. What the fuck are we doing here? One moment I am hopeless and cry and write "I am letting you go"-posts, the other I am sitting here at midnight, talking to you, joking, flirting in our old, lame way, which we both enjoyed.

   Should I let you go? Because if I do, I will let you go for real. I will act cold and I will push myself away from you and you away from me. But what if I choose to hold on to you? What if I keep hoping, what if I will find my reason to live again? What if you'll bring me back to life, heal my scars, feed my soul and caress my skin?
   What if everything will be perfect again?
              I hate this so much.

I will move at my grandma's for the summer holidays. For a month, at least. which means going to the gym and eating nothing and taking laxatives. Walking at night down his street, hoping to see him, knowing that he'll know I was walking on that street purposely, just to see him. Him and my first ex. What if I see my first ex? That would be suspicious too. I would shove my scars and pills and depression and ED and suicide notes in his hands, because he gave the to me and didn't take them back when he left. Well, when I left. Maybe I didn't let those things go because I was selfish. Now, that's twisted.

   My words no longer make sense, which is why I'll go to sleep. Today has been fucked I have eaten too much too much go away I hate you nonono but tomorrow today's lax will kick in and I'll be perfect thin light perfect just alright dead sick perfect I hate food.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

"There is, in the end, the letting go."

   I have stuck to my plan. Monday, Tuesday: water. Tomorrow we're going to the mall, where I will eat some boiled rice with veggies from Yummy Yang. I need it because I'll be tired by tomorrow (fuck you, warmth) and because I need the energy for Thursday, when we'll have the theater play. That will be a water day, followed by a liquid day on Friday, which is when I'll finish school.. After that, I'll pray to God that everything goes alright.

   I have made the decision to let him go. To let everything go, because I feel hopeless. He never initiates a conversation, though he seems to want to talk to me when I initiate one. I told him we could hang out, he agreed. Despite that, it never happened. He never calls or textes me or whatever..

   I hate the fact that he's moved on so quickly, that he acts like he never cared about me, when I would have taken my heart out of my chest and put it on fire -- all for him. He acts like I do not even exist, everything while I cry my lungs out and bleed in the bathroom and take Nurofen overdoses which make my therapist want to send me to the psychiatrist again ("There's no point in that, she won't prescribe anything, because she will say that my condition is not serious enough, again"). And I spend three hours at the gym and starve myself and stick my fingers/toothbrush down my throat and take too many laxatives. All these because I want to self-destruct myself, because he was the only person I woke up in the morning for and now I do not have a reason to live. And all these things slowly (or quickly, who knows) kill me, I know they do and this is why I do them. A way to kill myself that won't be flat out called suicide.

   Therefore, my decision is to let you go. I will let you go, because I need to focus on something else; I need to focus on my self-destruction.  I am letting you go.

Sunday, June 17, 2012


   I have accidentally commented on a friend's blog using this account. My ED-blog account. Fuck my life. I deleted the comment, commented again using the other account. Now, my profile is kind of hidden/non-existent, because I am so damn paranoid. I am very stupid today, I just broke a bottle of nail polish remover. Clumsy as always.

   I went to a friend's birthday party yesterday. We danced a lot, hands in the air, hot moves, loud music, gas and lights all over the place. Flirty-lesbo mood, thank God there were many people. We were dancing too close to each other, legs touching, eyes staring at each other. The slow dances came, all the boys and girls were dancing randomly with each other. I sat on the couch, my heart crying. I always imagine myself doing romantic things with him, things that he never gave to me, or did so very rarely.

   I ate two slices of pizza ("Fuck this shit, I'll take lax"), snacks, lots of coke and water. Two champagne glasses. Thank God the music was so loud you couldn't hear your own thoughts. I discreetly walked into the bathroom, fingers down my throat, purge purge purge. Champagne and water and coke, that's all that came out. Alcohol is the easiest thing to purge, because it tastes gross when it comes out, therefore simplifying the process. I cleaned the WC, wiped my mouth, cleaned my face, hair and forearms -- all full of vomit and acid and shit. I made sure I looked pretty again. My throat was a mess. I went back and danced, danced like crazy, because purging makes you feel weird and even drunker. I could not move my legs, they were shaking, my body was shaking.

   It was the first time I purged in a public toilet.

   Then I smoked a bit. I must say that I am not a smoker, nor do I think smoking is "cool". But it is definitely something I could do for the rest o my life because
a) it's not good for your health (therefore endangers your life, yay!)
b) it leaves a weird taste in your mouth, after which you don't feel like eating
c) it's an appetite suppressant, and even the fact that you believe this makes you not need to eat. It's psychological.
d) I look so damn hot when I smoke.

   Okay, the last one was a joke. As soon as I got home, I took the last 10 laxatives (When did I get here? I used to take 10 lax per weekend, now it's 30). The fact that I've eaten breaks my heart, everything was perfect. But still, I have only eaten on 3 days this week: Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday (today). It was my best week ever, I have always wished to do this. 3 food, 4 non-food (out of which one was liquids only). Weight loss? Yes. I am looking forward to tomorrow. Praying to stay food-less.

   My posts are so long, I know, but I have so many things to say. Anyways, I am done for now, so I'll see you around later.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

And maybe, just maybe, I'll be better this way

Monday: Water only
Tuesday: Water only
Wednesday: Eat
Thursday: Water only
Friday: Liquids only, under 500 calories. Take 20 laxatives.
Saturday: Eat. (10 laxatives in the evening?) Edit: Yes, 10 laxatives. And eat&drink so much you have to purge.
Sunday: We'll wait and see. Hopefully Water/Liquids only.

   I have lost 4 kilos.
   I have felt dead.
   My hipbones and ribs are sticking out.
   Everything has been so much better.

Food down my throat,
Food in my brain
To make sure I stay thin
I'll purge it down the drain.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

A dream

   I was eating. More and more and more. I looked at myself in the mirror. Big belly. Fat. Ugly. "I need to throw up.. but I can't, I know it won't come out."
   I look at my left hand. The "51" (goal weight) I wrote with a green pen was barely visible anymore.

   I swear, this was the weirdest dream I have ever had. A night before, I have thrown up after a long time of not doing it. I was afraid I won't be able to do it, but it was successful. On the same night, I wrote "51" with a green pen on my left hand. Somewhere in between dreaming and waking up, I clearly remember this phrase: "I fucked up again.. Mondays are always a disaster. I always ruin my perfect weeks with these Mondays."
   The first thing I did after waking up was check my left hand. The "51" was still there. My first thought: "Thank God.. I didn't eat. It was a dream. I did not ruin this day."

   I have not eaten or drunk anything but water since Sunday. I am getting thinner, slimmer, lighter. Weaker, exhausted, sick, dead. I am physically messed up, but I have the mental "high" that some of us get after not eating/purging.

   I have even talked to B. (kind of ex-bf, keep that in mind if you're reading my blog regularly, I'll refer to him as B.) today, it went so well. He even asked me about my summer plans, he showed interest in something about me. Earlier this afternoon, I was walking home from school. He was waiting for his bus. He was leaning on something, he saw me. I saw him. We both smiled and as I got nearer to him, he waved and I said "Hey!" I kept smiling until I got home. That smile coming from him made my day.

   He keeps me going. He keeps me away from food and all these things that I feel are bad for me. I have still cut everyday since our break up. I no longer feel sad about it, because, even though we talk less often now, our conversations are so.. perfect. But I cut because I have to. I feel that I need to show him an improved version of myself in order to have him back. This means not eating, being weak, cutting, taking pills. This is what I think is special about me, what defines me. And if we'll get back together, I'll tell him that, if he is to take me back, he has to take me together with my "things." It's not a condition I set for our relationship -- but more like a warning. I want him to know that I won't quit cutting just because he tells me to. I want him to understand that I need time and change.

   I need him.

   Running towards a better me.. Will I ever get there?

Saturday, June 9, 2012

The 8th of June

The 8th of June, 2011

  On that day, we were texting. You asked if I we would meet after class and I agreed. You asked if I would save you some chewing gum and I said I will. You asked me if you'd get anything else from me besides the chewing gum. I knew what you were talking about, so I agreed.
   On that day, we bought a beer and went behind a bank to drink it. It was a shadowed place, full of trees. After we finished, we stood up and started walking away. You asked me if I didn't forget anything. I said no and walked towards you. You asked me, "Right here?" I answered, "Right here." You came closer to me and put your hands around my waist. I closed my eyes and our lips touched, your tongue into my mouth, the warm summer wind, the birds, the trees. I never wanted that kiss to end. But it did, eventually.
   On that day, you asked me to do it again on the next day, if I had liked it. I said I did like it.

The 8th of June, 2012

   As soon as the first class begins, someone opens the door but doesn't walk in. They close the door back. The teacher goes to check who it was. A few minutes later, I get a text message. "I accidentally went to your classroom :))" I answer, "Was that you?! =))"
   It was you again. It's always you, the person who puts a smile on my face no matter what. If you did that on purpose, only to have a reason to text me.. Well, I doubt that.

   Later, around 6 o'clock, I texted you. "Would it be too inappropriate if I said 'happy anniversary'? :)) How are you?" but I didn't get an answer.

   At 9 o'clock, I took down my bracelets, put my blade, pills and the teddy I got from you in my backpack and went outside. It was already dark at 9:30, I was walking down your street. I knew what I was about to do. Unexpectedly, I see you come in my direction. You were with another person, a guy. I walk faster, pretend to not know you. I recognize the other guy. It was my ex. The one that brought me in the eating disorder-depression-more area. How funny, meeting with two of my exes.

(I'll refer to the first ex as "R" and my guy, the one I broke up with last week, as "B")

R: Look, it's the blonde.
Me: (silence..) Hey.
R: Hey? :)) What are you doing here?
Me: I was taking a walk
R: Are you emo now, or what? (I was wearing all black clothes)
Me: Maybe you are emo, haha
R: You haven't changed.. still acting like a slick person
Me: Fine, okay.

   And we each go in different directions from then. I take out my laxatives, ten of them. Swallow them with water. I take out the Nurofen. Twelve pills, 400 mg each, totaling 4800 mg. The maximum amount you are allowed to take? 1200 mg. Sure, I'll take them all then. Swallow, quickly, the pills are huge.
   Quarter to ten. Fifteen minutes left. I walk in the opposite direction. I go behind the house, the place we used to meet and kiss and talk and love each other. I take out the razor, cut. Put some blood on the wall.
   After that, I went behind the bank, in the shadowed place. It was extremely dark, no light, no nothing. I was scared. That is the place where we had our first kiss. I violently slice through my wrist, cutcutcut, the blood starts to flow and I run home. Before I enter, I notice my hand is full of blood, my phone is full of blood. how am I going to do this? I enter the house, quickly go into the bathroom and check my bolero, it is soaked with blood. Despite it (the bolero jacket) being black, I clearly see the red blood on it. I take it down and squeeze it under the water. Lots of red blood is coming.
   It took me 15 minutes to stop the bleeding.

                            The 8th of June will never be forgotten, no matter the year. I've been loving you since that day and always will.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Break up: I loved you.

   "Dude. I have never told you that I loved you, but I did it. Maybe even now, more like a friend, and it's a thing I have never felt for [my ex], not for anyone. I thought I could tell you that, at least now."
"It's weird that I did it too, but also never told you."
"You don't have to say it only because I said it. I don't know, I was afraid that you didn't."
"I didn't say it because you said it. I did."

   That was precious. It brought me to tears, because those words have such a great impact on me. I never believed anyone when they told me they loved me. This is the first time I did.

   I told him I loved him because this did not seem real. It is like a dream - You are afraid to do anything, because you think it's real. Then you wake up and regret not doing that certain thing, because nothing could have happened to you.

   This was a dream. I told him I loved him. And nothing bad happened.

   We agreed that we'll break up for a period of time, to let things chill down. Then we'll see what out mistakes were and could start from fresh. He remembers the time when we were happy. I remember it. There is this little chance that we will get back together and I am not giving up on it. I am not giving up on him.

   A few months ago, I said I would kill myself if we ever broke up. I will not kill myself. I still hope for the best, for on more kiss on my lips.. I hope that everything will get back to normal, because if there is no him, there's nothing.

   This is not a teenage girl waiting for her prince to come on a white horse. This is me, fighting for what I love.

   I need to cut. I need to feel something right now, because all I feel is nothing, and that is not okay.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

"Misunderstood," concluded she.

"She started crying because I didn't ask her about the college money."
"Well, I don't believe that.. Why would she cry?" says he.
"Because she is stupid."
"Why do you say she is stupid? I mean, she is your mother.. You should respect her," says he.
"Because she didn't know how to use a condom when she had sex with dad."
"And I don't understand why you pretend to be so rebellious.. I just wanted to see if you made her cry for no reason again. When I was your age, I didn't say my mother was stupid and so on," says he.
"I didn't say it was a good thing to be a rebel," says he.

"I wanted to say that, if you stop acting rebelliously, your problems with her will go away. You cut for her last week, so maybe you will eventually stop cutting," says he.
"I did not cut FOR her."

"At your age.. What problems could you possibly have? Let's say that you cut twice a week," says he.
"You keep avoiding my question. What problems could you have at your age?" says he.
"I do not have problems. That's what you assumed."

   I go into my dressing. I look at my wrist. The scars are almost healed - there's only the dark-red skin. I cut.

"Let's say.. today you cut 16 times a month. Tomorrow you'll cut 30 times a month. If you cut because of every shit, what will you do in the future? What will you do when you will start having real problems, not rebellion problems?" says he.
"If I'll want to kill myself, I won't do it by cutting.. It's not so easy to die from that."

"You need to open your eyes.. have you opened your eyes yet?" says he.
"My eyes are wide open.. you just want to change their color."
"Look at you. I'm telling you to open your eyes and you tell me that I want to change their color," says he.
"It was a metaphor."

"I do not want to change you. I am not telling you to do anything. Anyways, I hope this half hour was not wasted.. I do not want to change your life. You have to figure out how to change your life. You can understand what you want, it's not my business.. I don't care if you understood anything or not," lies he.
"Then why did you even tell me?"
"Is that what bothers you right now? Why I told you all these?" says he.

"If you think that we all have different opinions and that everyone has a right to have their own reality, well.. you are wrong. There is only one reality," says he.
"Don't you tell me what my rights are."

"Okay, today's discussion was very.. what can I say, inspirational. Have a good night."
"Good night. Do you know what that is called? Abandoning a discussion," says he.
"Excuse me?"

He signs off. I sign off. I start writing a text message. He calls me. I reject him. I sign in. He signs in.

"You do not have a coherent argument, so you are abandoning the discussion. I just wanted to see if you were upset. I wanted to tell you these things for a long time now," says he.
"If you do not like rebellious (as you like to call me) kiddos like me, you can just tell me and I'll make sure you won't have this kind of creatures around you anymore."

That was me giving him the chance to break up with me.

"I don't know, I just thought I'd tell you and you would stop cutting," says he.
"That's not how things work.."

Have you ever been so misunderstood that you wanted to rip off your own skin?