2004-01-08, 1:15 a.m.
It is 1:15 A.M. and I sit at my computer pregnent bellied and exausted. I will not go to my first class tommorow, maybe not my second either. Perhaps just the one after lunch. I need to catch up on sleep. I shiver in my skeletel 84 lb body as I pinch the fat/skin in my thighs. Hopelessness flows through me. Even If I do go into treatment, I don't think I'll ever get over this completely. I'll never look at myself, food, or anything related the same ever again. This will haunt me for the rest of my life. I don't know if I can live with myself like this for the rest of my life. I think about that and my heart starts to beat rapidly in fear. I pick a scab on the corner of my face, next to the hair line. As the blood comes to the surface and I feel a prick of pain, my heart stops beating so quickly and I start to calm down. If I didn't eat all the food in my room, I would've consumed that to calm my fears. I feel for something else to pick but I think my face is smooth with wounds. I've picked all the scabs. I guess I should just take my shaking body from under this blanket, drag myself nauseously to the bathroom, and begin the inevitable. The sooner I start the sooner it's over.