Saturday, January 26, 2013

Let the bodies hit the floor

   I should have expected this. As soon as I entered my grandmother's house on Monday, I started eating. A lot. And the same shit happened the entire week.

   Long story short, I threw up twice last week (for the first time this year) and also cut (for the first time in more than one month). I felt like such a disappointment. I gained back all the weight. 5 days of not eating, 2 days of eating almost like a normal person, and BANG! I gained everything back in just a few days. I took lax today.

   Yesterday I went to the gym with the suicidal girl. My body looks better than hers. She's pretty unfamiliar with how one should behave in a gym. She was chewing gum, hair was coming into her face, she was sitting on different machines and not doing anything. And she had to take down her jacked, so all of her cuts and burns were visible. Of course, not a single person gave her a weird look. Not a single person. The hell.

   I'm starting to like her less and less. She's so dramatic, she thinks that no one in this world has it worse than her.

Chanelle: "There are worse cases."
Girl: "Oh, really. Yeah, sure, worse cases."
Chanelle: "There are parents who kill their kids or throw them out in the street. You have food and shelter, at least."

   I wasn't saying her situation wasn't bad. No, it is bad, worse than mine. I feel bad and arrogant for saying this, but I am so much better than her. She's an okay person, but I hate people who complain ALL DAY LONG, who are lazy, who blame people for no reason etc. Also, like I said in the previous post, I hate ignorant people like her mother. "She said she'd stop. Why didn't she just stop?" Oh, sure! Let's find an anorexic and tell her to eat a sandwich, THAT'S THE CURE. This kind of people should have their heads cut off (not people like the girl, but like her mother). But that doesn't mean I agree with the girl's behavior. It must be really hard for her, I know. My therapist said I used to be parasuicidal, but she is the high-risk kind of suicidal. Blah. I never ever complained to my friends and I'm glad I didn't. She is just pushing people away. Including me.

   My little best friend saw some scars on my abdomen. I told her they were old. She never mentioned them again. Actually, they were made in December. Who cares.

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