Cold

May 5, 2011
Thursday
10:17 am

I’m so cold all the time. I’m freezing. I hate this.

It’s even cold outside. In Yuma. Fuck global warming, its global cooling. How is it not snowing?

I just went and dry heaved for 20 minutes, after puking up all my (very little) water and coffee that had yet to go through my system. There was a lot of blood, and it was really scary. I don’t think I should purge anymore. I can’t really call it bingeing and purging, since I didn’t binge. Last night I ate 2 small slices of pizza, and 2 helpings of sweet potato fries.

And then I purged and took laxatives. I’m such a disappointment. Would it be so hard to just do what they tell me to? Would I still be me? Who am I and where is that and how why and when am I me? They don’t even know me. No one wants to hear that you’re still sick. They want to hear “I’m really trying, I’m recovering, and I’m getting better.” If you’re stuck in sick, you might as well stop wasting their time and just get dead. I promised my friend last night that I would try, and since he sits at my lunch table, I might have to eat. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I could pretend I didn’t bring a lunch, but I’m fairly sure I have a peanut butter and banana sandwich today, judging by the smell that wafted out when I got my water out of my bag. Whenever I have peanut butter banana I have to give it to Brieanna Molina, the 85 pound girl that my friend mentioned in our Eatspirational argument. Don’t get me wrong, brie eats. Brie eats a lot. But she has probably the fastest metabolism known to man, so she burns it all off so quickly she can’t keep meat on her bones. I want my bones on my chest visible. I want it to be obvious that I have a problem. I want to fucking starve. But it’s really difficult. I think that by my senior year I could be at 88, at this rate. By senior year. That gives me two years to get my life on track. I am faced with a huge problem, though. Summer. What the fuck am I supposed to do with fucking summer? I’m going to be with my family the entire fucking summer! If I gain it all back, I don’t know what I’ll do. I wish that just for once I could poof! My body to whatever skinniness I want. Boobs, gone, so that I have less problems ever being around boys. Make me barely eligible for a training bra, please. Then I would make all my bones completely visible. Skin stretched tight over bones, shining blue in the fluorescent light. Then I would grow my hair loooooooooong long long, longer than my knees. I would knit it into a dress, a living, growing dress, and wear that always. It wouldn’t be ugly, it would be beautiful, and whenever I wanted a new color, I could dye it. It would be really itchy, to bother the deep cuts on mu ribs. I would rise up into the air in my ballet slippers, wooden blocks hidden in the toes, pink ribbons sewn into my calves; magical. I wish I could have an ounce of privacy. Right now, Malachi is reading over my shoulder and its pissing me off. I want to die………….. I feel like I’m going to pass out. I wonder, if I did, would if finally be obvious that I have a problem?