good times. great life.
2005-03-03, 11:12 a.m.

Edited at 8:30
Argh. I just need to write more and I don't want to push back my latest entry. I'm depressed as hell. I've eaten too many sweedish Ikea candy chewy cars to count. I'm frustrated, bored, angry, and lonely. Did I mention depressed? I've felt like this since I went to school, then left in the middle of psychology. I've never left a class in the middle of a lecture before. I also ditched math, which was after psychology. I went to get frozen yogurt after class, and had trouble pulling out of the parking lot, making a fool out of myself and holding up some cars behind me. I guess that's no biggy but I feel like that's something I've done a zillion times: made stupid mistakes during driving. Not to mention I have a track record against me because of my accident so it makes me look worse then I am. I shook the whole way home, feeling hot, with my heart pounding. I just kept saying "stupid stupid stupid". I put my frozen yogurt in the freezer, and didn't eat it for a few hours as punishment. When my dad and brother got home from work, I was happy for company other then the bitch witch aka mom. But a fight immedieatly broke out between the two of them over the stupid computer. I wasn't greeted or acknowledged. Once again I am pushed aside over something petty. I went upstairs and crawled into bed, and turned off the light to make my room a dark cave. I cried because my dad doesn't care what's going on with me. He doesn't notice that I never eat, I weigh 79 lbs, he never asks how my days are, he never talks to me, he's more worried about his computer then me, he didn't even notice me go upstairs in tears, and he's my FATHER. Julio wants me to just forget him, he's not worth it. But it's so frustrating. How can someone so smart, dad the engineer, not understand. I say, I show, I ask him to LOVE ME, and I get nothing. I feel like eating. A lot. Lots and lots. Gwar. Boredom and sadness and no bulimia. I'm going to take sleeping pills.
-------------(This morning:)-------- Yesterday was 30 days of no bingeing/purging. It was an okay day, but nothing special. I went out with Christie, her mom, and one of the people Christie is moving out with. It was really hard to see how close we aren't anymore. She hardly talks to me anymore or shows any interest in me. Instead she talks to her new friend and looks for stuff for her new place while we shop. Her interests have taken a 180. I wish I could say I am okay with that, and I acted like that while we were out, but I just turn to stone. I hung around Christie's mom's side to numb the pain, but I was aching. It's all because of my eating disorder, or more accurately, me. While Christie was pulling herself together, getting a job, saving money, and making plans to move out, I was eating. I was staying home and bingeing, puking, refusing to get a job, and fucking up royally. If I was like her, I could be buying beer glasses and rugs and be out of this hell hole. Instead I weigh 79 pounds, only eat popcorn and sugar free pudding, and am too weak to walk up the stairs to math class. I thought I was so smart, had everything under control, and could handle things on my own.
Well, now I am the one who went to a psychiatrist appointment this morning, feels empty and alone, am going to ditch math today because I can't climb stairs, and weighs the same as someone half her age. But atleast I'm thin? I'd cheer but my hands are shaking too much and I don't think I can lift my arm.
So I've made 30 days. I was late for my psych appt this morning because everything I put on made me look TOO THIN. What. The. Fuck. I was afraid of being starred at. But it was hot out so I couldn't layer too much. I thought "Shit, I look anorexic without a jacket." Have I just turned from bulimia to anorexic over night?