2004-08-14, 11:08 p.m.
I'm bent over the toilet. Vomit so streaked on my cheeks, down my arm, splashed on my sweats, and down the side of the toilet. I'm fat. I'm a fat fat fat blob. I'm tired of puking. I stand on the scale, and according to my calculations, I have 5 more lbs of food to puke before I can call it quits.
I am tired.
I have to keep going but it's 11, 12, I don't know how late, and I haven't slept in ages and my eyes keep drooping. Panic strikes at the thought of falling asleep with my stomach stretched this far with all this food in me.
I finish. I can't get any more out of me. I weigh myself and I am not happy with the number. I collapse on the floor and sob with my puking arm away from me so I don't get anymore dirty - which is stupid to do because I'm pretty much filthy. I didn't shower today because there's no point anymore - no friends and it's too much effort. I don't bother trying to stay clean from vomit because who gives a fuck anymore and I'm too tired to try.
Fat Fuck. Fat Fuck. Fat Fuck. Screams in my head. Must drop ton-age.
In truth, I'm so depressed. This focus on losing the weight I've gained is just a mirage to distract myself from how depressed and hopeless I feel. I say to myself, in these many days, I need to drop these many lbs. It makes me feel better to have this power not to eat all day. How To Fight The Hopelessness.
I see Julio Tuesday. I keep playing scenarios in my head. He always asks me how I am in the start of the appt. I could say "Fine, you?" and lie. Or say "Pondering suicide." and be straight foward. Or say "Does anyone ever actually say they're doing just dandy to that question?" And avoid the topic. I never know how to respond.
Poll: How would you respond if your (ex)best friend's mom told you she was getting a divorce and has been seeing someone else and she hasn't told her kid's, but told you first? For some reason, this depresses the hell out of me.