Falling apart.
2004-02-26, 8:38 p.m.

I have been avoiding this place. I don't want to talk about my eating disorder anymore. Writing "eating disorder" makes me cringe. The like, two people in my life who know about it and ask me about it are irritating. STOP. I don't want to anymore. Can't we talk about anything else? It doesn't exist. It's not getting any better. I'm falling apart. You don't understand.
No, I'm still not ready to do anything.
Leave me the fuck alone.

I think I'm falling apart.
Drug doctor asks me how eating disorder is. Without hesistation, without thought, I reply "terrible." i look away, and start to cry.

Last night, in the middle of purging, I break down. I was so tired. I didn't want to have to finish. I didn't want to have to do this anymore. I started sobbing, loudly. my dad knocks on the bathroom door. "Are you okay?" "Ya. Fine." I say, without missing a beat. I immediatly stop sobbing. I'm good at pulling myself together. He says to me "it sounds like you were coughing a lot or something." hah. no. "No, I'm fine." "You sure?" "Yes." No explanation. Just, i'm fine.

Tonight, I think to myself, I can't even fathom how I'm going to pull together the strength to purge. Then I realize, I'll pull this off the same way I do everynight.

Just barely.