2002-06-07, 7:30 p.m.
I have to slow down a little to keep myself from falling over. I hold my stomach in hope that the touch of my hands will stop the aching. I feel a little better now that I purged, but the last I saw was rice and I ate alot of pretzel sticks before that. I hate myself for being so weak. For stopping after all the rice. I almost laughed at how fucked up I am. I pushed up the sleeves of my jacket, revealing arms full of cuts in every direction, fresh, old, scarred over and stuck 2 fingers down to the back of my throat. There I was, using a hand connected to an arm full of cuts to throw up the plain white rice and pretzel sticks I had just ate. Its kind of interesting to see how it looks so much like when it first just went into my body. Today, I lied to my youth pastor. I had to. I told him I was taking diet pills when he inquired about my dieting, but lied when he flatly asked about anorexia and bulimia. I think he knew. Im almost 100% he knew I was lying because he kept talking about how I wouldn't tell him if i was throwing up my food or not eating. I looked at him seriously "no, im not doing any of that." I though of that conversation as I watched rice fall into the toilet. Food belongs in the toilet. Food is trash.
I almost cried when I stepped on my scale. it said 110 and I gulped back tears and noticed it wasnt zeroed out on the scale. I fixed it, stepped on again clothed, and read 107. I sobbed. I use to be 103 till I became weak. I ate a huge piece of white cake with strawberries right before bed last night. i was so hungry. im hoping if i do some sit ups, strip, and step on the scale, ill atleast be 105. i promised myself no food today. what a failure i am.