2002-06-19, 4:56 a.m.
5am. I woke up. Remembered who I am, what I'm doing to my life, and the mess I've made of it. Start to cry. It's like it finally hit me. I have an eating disorder. I'm afraid of eating. What I do eat, I force myself to get rid of. And I hate to do it. But I hate the food inside of me more. My arms, full of cuts...may look like this for the rest of my life. what have I done? the worse part of it all...Is that I probably won't change. Instead of walking to the bathroom with confidence...I'll be sobbing, trying to control myself as I stick 3, not 2 anymore, but 3 fingers down the back of my throat.
What the hell is wrong with me? That is -so- fucking sick. What has happened to my mind?
Everything is a goddamn mess and It's all my fault that I feel this way. Everything that hurts so deeply it stabs deep into my heart, is my fucking fault I deserve every day, every second of this pain. I asked for it when I was stupid enough to envy anyone who had an eating disorder and was dissapointed when I couldn't have that passion. Well now I have that fucking passion and I'm exuscing myself 3 times when I'm out to dinner to purge. When I want to hurry home from seeing a friend so I can purge all the fucking food I binged on. I told myself repeatidly: one pancake, one strip of bacon, half an egg. Not that many calories but I had to eat the whole fucking plate because I knew I was going to get rid of it anyways and I might as well as eat as much as possible.
gah.
Yesterday, I was bringing my CD player into the bathroom so I could listen to music while I was in there. I weigh myself compulsively, so I just wanted to see how much I'd weigh carrying the old huge boom box. 113. How can that be? That I use to only weigh 3 lbs less. It's like I had that huge boombox in me.
I should sleep. I have to wake up in 2 1/2 hours to see Julio. I can't talk about this. It's so...disgusting.