StrongEmptyStrong

So yesterday I thought I did really well with my eating, I kept it under a 500 calorie intake for the whole day. I had breakfast, a snack when I got home, and dinner. But when I weighed in this morning, 112 pounds. Horrible.
Today during weight training I burned around 2,000 calories.
I’m starving right now, but I have a plan.
we have these frozen weight loss meals at my house, and I think if I eat one after school, my mom won't make me eat any dinner, and I’ll know exactly how many calories I had for dinner.
When my mom makes dinner, she makes it gourmet, and without much thought. So I can't really calorie count, which makes me cut.
I try not to overeat, and I almost never have seconds, but it still sends me into a panic attack where I can’t breathe and I can’t see and… you get the idea.
So school sucks lately because I had to go back to weight training today.
I mean, yes, it’s a great chance to work out, and burn calories, but that place is literally a giant metal oven. There is no air conditioning, not even a fan. I hate it.
I have cuts on my right wrist, but they are so faded only I would notice them. Is it wrong of me to want my wrist hurt again, just so I can cut underneath the bandage? I want to cut and bleed. I want to open a vein. I want rivers running down my arms. But I can’t, because my parents are ever suspicious since the last time. I want to cry.

Today in Physics we did an experiment to see each person’s approximate reaction time. One person would drop a yardstick, and the other person would try to close their fingers on it before it moved. I’m so exhausted, my reaction time showed up as 1.5 seconds. Everyone else’s was about .195 seconds. My yardstick hit the floor every time.

My periods have started again.
(If this is too much for you, suck it up, I can be as fucking brutal as I want)
This means, no love without the glove J
Ha-ha not really, I have a girlfriend. Yes, we made it official now.
God, that word scares me. Official. It sounds like a death sentence.
I tried to tell her where my bruises come from, but I couldn’t get the words out, so I told her I fell.
Close.
But no cigar.
Speaking of cigars, I need to smoke so badly, but I’m only seventeen and therefore cannot buy my own yet. I will try to get Patrick to buy me some.
I miss Patrick desperately. He’s the one who keeps me sane, and chases away the numbness that I so constantly feel. The only thing that keeps me connected to this body without him is pain.
The pain of hunger, the pain of cutting, they all feel good. Great, even.
I chew my nails until they bleed, so for just a moment, I can feel my fingertips, the delicious warmth spreading through them like hot chocolate.

I’m trying to drink my watered-down PowerAde to stop my stomach from growling, but it isn’t working. I want to eat so badly, but I’m trying to make myself hold out until after school. Its only 11:35 am. I still have to make it through lunch, and I don’t know if I can stand the delicious aromas that will waft out of the cafeteria.
I’m thinking, if I just get a teensy tiny something, and go to the gym tonight- no. no Morgan don’t even BEGIN to think like that. That is failure.

On Sunday night, I recommitted my life to Jesus, meaning no more sex for me. I’m really okay with that, because I haven’t been getting that much to begin with.
I had a lovely and interesting night Saturday night, and then at church I felt guilty, what must people have been thinking, seeing those poorly disguised bite marks on my neck.

I would kill for some fish and chips right now.
Or a hot dog
Or that cinnamon roll taunting me from the freezer
Or pizza
Or pasta
Hot food of any kind



Strong=empty=strong

It is now 1:36 pm.
I’m in my Dual Credit world history class.
The only class I have left is Algebra 2, and then I can go home and stuff my fucking face until my tummy is finally quiet. Do my essay for theology and swim and run and bike and play with the dogs and the kitten and the rabbit (and the fish?) and clean my room and the kitchen and vacuum and mow the lawn and shave and go to the gym and go to the store. Anything but eat.
Or have one of those meals, and then do all of those things. As long as I don’t go over 500 calories today, I’ll be alright.

I miss Patrick; I’m reading comics off of http://www.xkcd.com/ , which we used to always do.
His smile, his eyes… his hugs…
I wish he was here right now to hug me and tell me I’m being silly and that of COURSE I can lose the weight and that I AM trying hard enough and that he loves me.

I’ll have to settle for girlfriend.

Summer

I spent my summer busy.
First I went to Utah for two weeks, to our family cabin up there.
Had a blast hiking and stuff. No scale. Ate a lot.
Next went to Virginia for about a week with my Grandpa.
Had to eat a lot to convince my depressed Great Great Aunt Evelyn to eat, her daughter had recently died.
Next I went to San Francisco for ten days for SuperCamp.
Best time of my life.
I mean, I cannot even begin to explain... augh. Amazing
Mandatory meals and everyone was piling up food so I had to eat or stand out. More.
Straight from there to finish off my month in California in Long Beach, where I was born.
I did a Drama Invitational there.
They pick the best girl and the best boy from each state and sent them all up to this place for two weeks.
At the end of the two weeks we have to put on a showcase.
I was more of a counselor than anything, since I was the oldest by far.
Finally went home after that. For about 2 days.
Then off to Seattle for my cousin's wedding.
Then home for a bit before off to Utah again for a memorial service that I don’t want to talk about.
School started Monday the 15^th.
I hate my school. I’m a junior this year.
I hate uniforms and having to pray and learn about Jesus, who hates me right now.
I hate my teachers, and my classes and lunch. I especially hate lunch.
The cafeteria is so awkward. I have no one to sit with. I try to skip out wherever I can. In the band room, or Mr. Coffeen’s classroom, that’s usually where I end up.
Am I that horrible that no one will sit with me anymore?

Today is my birthday.
I am seventeen.
I weigh a little less than 113.
I haven’t weighed myself since the doctor's office because I’m scared.
Ive been living on V8 for the past 3 days, and avoiding the cafeteria like the plague.
I have to eat dinner, but I wait as long as possible so I can feel the delicious hunger burning in my stomach.
I eat a little something for breakfast every morning because if you don't your metabolism gets all out of wack and you lose weight slower.
I did my hair :)
It is bleach blonde now, with curls in the front going towards my face and a blue headband to hold back my bangs.
I injured my wrist, and have to wear a wrap on it until we know what is wrong.
This gives me an excuse to cut on that wrist, because it is covered.
The only problem? It is my right hand, and I write with it.
Ah well.
My birthday party is tonight.
We are going to see the movie Fright Night, because I’m finally old enough to buy a ticket.
Afterwards were going to my house to paarrrrty!
Imma get stoned and drunk, Hopefully, If not at my party, at least sometime this weekend, to forget my problems.
My current "girlfriend" (we aren’t technically dating) can’t go to my party.
She is also one of my best friend's exes. (She’s still in love with my girlfriend)... Does that make me a whore? The problem is, I’m still in love with my ex. es. Two of them... and a boy sitting on my left right now.
And my girlfriend. The problem is my girlfriend just assumes that because I love her I want to be physical. I’m not good at physical.
I wish I could break up with her, to save my friendship and to.... gather my sanity. I’m so confused...

Fuckit.
It’s my birthday; it’s time to fuck shit up :)