2004-01-15, 8:32 p.m.
Manic mel is rising, rising and in action. I can't seem to calm down, shut up, breath. Everything is weighing down on me and I can't get away. My conversational skills lack, I can't seem to care if I am a bitch, I'm not my usual suck up to teachers, I'm off in a distance. Dad asks if I want to play cards? "huh?" he repeats himself. "oh. no." I hit myself as i walk away. damnit, melissa. that wasn't nice. i should've played. where am I? what's going on?
The big question in my mind is treatment or no treatment? I'm in my last semester of HS...I can't go now. My parents can't find out. I guess I'll talk this out with Julio. He's always on the no side so I guess I'm pretty safe to stay out of it but I don't know if that's a good thing. But fuck..if I go..no more therapy with Julio. And my parents find out. And no more Church. Fuck, I'm not going. no. No. no. no. no.
What the hell am I going to do?
A. Kill myself
B. Live with disorder till it kills me
C. Hope I get over this by myself (slim to none)
I'm sorry God. I'm sorry i said I wanted to be bulimic. I'm sorry I said I wanted to be thin. I'm sorry I tried so hard to throw up. I'm sorry I abuse my body. I'm sorry this is so important to me. I'm sorry I never listened to all the warnings. I'm sorry I steal money. I'm sorry i steal food. I'm sorry I over eat when there is starving people in the world. I'm sorry I throw up. I'm sorry I won't eat or throw away food. I'm sorry I'm lying to everyone. I'm sorry I skip church. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But please don't make me go to a hospital. I'm only 17. I can't handle this. Make me normal. Make.this.go.away.