Inspiration

Just imagine what it would be like to wake up in the morning

perfectly empty, resting your hands on your stomach, which is caving in, tracing the outline of your hipbones, your ribs, your collarbones. The soft autumn light shining through the window, you stand up, and you feel a bit lightheaded - but that’s ok. You make yourself some fresh coffee, black, no milk, no sugar. You curl up with the news, a good book, or the laptop, and sip your hot coffee, slowly waking up. You take a hot shower, and you are not disgusted by what you see. You style your hair, moisturise, the whole lot, put on cute underwear, do your make up, grab cute, tiny clothing and don’t worry about “looking bad” because you will look fantastic, even if you wear a shapeless jumper. Just imagine how fantastic that would be, how liberating. There is only one thing you need to do: don’t eat that.

A Letter of Confession

Dear...Anyone.

I've been wanting to tell you something for a while now. We've come so close during our "life talks"; so close to me spilling my guts in front of you. All of it for you to see. I have been hiding something from you, from everyone actually, for at least five years now.

I have trouble with food. I have trouble thinking of food, eating food, throwing up food, counting the caloric content of food. Every time I eat anything, anything at all, I feel guilty afterwards. I always ask myself, "why in the hell did I just eat that?" because I wasn't even hungry in the first place. I'm never hungry. And as soon as I realize what I've done, I head to the bathroom to throw it all up. Yeah, I said it. I put my fingers down my throat and make myself throw up. That only started last year though, so I can assure you, I haven't been hiding that for too long. I feel so triumphant after, like I overpowered the food from weighing me down, another pound heavier.

Listen-I'm not telling you this because I want a sympathy vote or an intervention. I just want someone to fix me. Or at least try, just like I do for everyone else. I'm only telling you this because I needed to get it off my chest. I needed someone to tell me they know how I feel. Do you know how I feel? Do you know what it's like to be the skinniest girl in the room with the prettiest dress hanging off her lovely, fragile bones and yet, feel so comfortable and beautiful? I did. For one day. For one special party when everyone was gawking at how tiny I was. But it wasn't enough. It never is. It never, ever is.

Trust me, I know how crazy I must sound. To make all these claims and not want a single helping hand. I'll slap your hand away before reaching out for it. Trust me, I know I'm a little crazy. You can't help but admire how I've kept myself so composed with such grace. I bet you had no idea. I'm a skillful liar, weaving deception through every polite smile that says "no thank you". I know you admire that, in some sick twisted way. But let me assure you, you can't tell me that I have a problem. Right now this is the most important journey in my life, striving for perfection. Being that frail, little Che that you loved and adored so much. So cute and petite. You've put me on a pedestal, so now I'm telling you why. You loved me because I was a tiny little creature that fit so perfectly into that niche, into the space in your arms.

I will be beautiful for you again. I will be small and breakable in your hands. This is a promise I'm making to you and to myself. I will be that girl you loved.

Love,

Me.

Forever and always.

The Awful Truth

I do not deserve to eat ever, EVER again. EVER.

Let the Self-Loathing Continue...

Preface: Today I am such a fail, but I am also surprised at when I can do to myself.

I hate living with roommates, no less my friends. They always want to eat, want to go out to eat, desserts everywhere, carbs everywhere...it's a bad environment for when I'm trying to LOSE weight. Tonight, Bman said she was hungry. When she says she is hungry, I for some reason think it's okay to indulge. We just got take out from Chili's and each got our own dessert. I finished it all. Is weird that I was looking forward to this? I was looking forward to stretching my stomach to it's biggest capacity and then throwing it all up. So as soon as I was finished, I went for a shower and rid myself of all that I could. My starting weight, after the delicious food had been ingested, was 126.8 lbs. When I was done, the final weight was 123.0 lbs. It's inconceivable to me that I ate three pounds of food. THREE POUNDS. But it's gone, all gone, and I know this because it got to bile. Goodbye delicious cake, ice cream, french fries and chicken tenders. I will not miss you, but oh, how I enjoyed you.

C'mon skinny love.

Rock Bottom

I think I may be in a bit of trouble. For some reason, I haven't taken anything in the semester thus far seriously. I've opted to miss all my lecture classes because they don't take attendance. I missed my 3-D design critique on Monday. I think I've dug myself in a hole that I won't be able to climb out of. I am royally screwed. Why did I do this? I have no motivation at all, whatsoever. I am every essence of the word failure right now, and I don't know how to fix it. This may be one problem I can't talk my way out of.

Wonderment

Sometimes, I like to wonder what it's like to be hooked up to all the different tubes in the hospital. Laying there in a hospital gown, lifeless, seeing everyone cry. Who knows why I'm there. Maybe I've finally achieved my goal to being as thin as can be. Maybe I've been in a horrific accident that wasn't my fault. Maybe I have cancer. Maybe kidney failure. With all these things I wonder, I also wonder if you would be there. I know in my heart that you wouldn't. You wouldn't miss me...at all, I'm sure. But if you were there, laying in that hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and ventricles of sorts, I would be there, crying for you to come back. You really fucked everything up.

I know I talk about H all the time, like I'm not over him. I am though. I'll always love him, I just don't miss him anymore. Maybe this is why I'm so sad. Or maybe it's because I know I'm such a fat cow that I no longer feel in top shape. It's pathetic really. All of it. All of it's pathetic and I'm pathetic right now, but I don't feel bad about it. I'm allowed to feel this way. I'm allowed to feel like I'm such a fat little piggy. Because I am. I WILL change that. I have the will power deep down inside of me and the lack of hunger is only a reminder that I shouldn't be eating. And when I'm successful for fasting, I'll welcome that low growl from within because Ana has been reawakened. And I'm welcoming her with open arms.

I'm changing to spite you.

Halloween, Cupcakes, and Shame

Can I just tell you that I am not hungry. Stop bringing cupcakes especially made for me on the holidays. No more pizza, no more pretzels, no more food. NO MORE. Please. I have goals here, that I'm trying to implement. Just...no more. I hate myself.

Since it was/is Halloween, I went to Robert's for the night. Had a good laugh with a few new people, met a boy named Nathan who hopefully calls. We'll see. H wasn't there, regretfully. I was planning a full-frontal attack on him; batting my eyelashes, impressing him with witty and clever conversations, only to yank it all away from him. He wasn't there though; instead he decided to go visit a friend up north at college for the weekend out of the blue...they don't even talk anymore. So for the sake of me being a good person, I hope he's okay. But I do hope it has something to do with me. Regret, perhaps? Cross your fingers.

I'm starting a fast today, in hopes of shedding all the shame and regret of the weekend, and then some. Friday I was 100% successful in not eating a thing because I simply was not hungry. I need more of those days. Something to hope for. Once I'm at 116, I'll allow myself to go shopping for some new clothes. I'm itching for something new.

You have only let me down, but my door is always open.