I torture myself by eating food that I have forbidden.

When I hate myself I eat more.

I hate myself.

I have no control; the pressure building underneath my skin is the forewarning of hysteria.

I tore my skin in an agonizing panic of helplessness.

I feel disgusting, overwhelmed by my own depraved behavior. 

A sour candy to drool over.

Chew me up and spit me out.

"Yummy"

Willowy branches wrapped 'round ardent ebony, brown wades into blue-green. 

Planted within a wavering sea, rocking in nonexistent strength.

Heart's pieces pining for the truest blue, cloudy memories of treacherous ground. 

Shivery pulses vibrate beneath skin.

My mom walked in on me while I was wearing a t-shirt and underwear. I felt really upset because she didn't look horrified by my figure, I'm not skinny enough. SHE SAW MY THIGHS. Scream. Scream. Scream.

"Tiny ribs like a sparrow's bones, I could have broken them all with one rough caress. Sugarplum heart beating wildly in its cage. Everything so small, so perfect."

I am a failure. 

I seem to be unable to successfully do anything, except be a loser. I excel at being a loser. 

Wow, a pro loser. Fuck me. 

...

 I just had an unsuccessful bout of purging.

My eyes feel heavy.

I want to be skinny.

Success.

There is nothing. I am broken, watch me bleed. I believed in a future. I am given nothing, except that which is preordained to be taken. 

I feel really anxious about the amount of food I ate today. I don't know if it was actually a large amount or if it was the peanuts I ate, the fat content makes me feel out of control. I feel fidgety and unable to breathe casually. What the fuck am I doing?

Vomited a little in a mug after lunch today.

My little sister made chocolate cake two nights ago, I ate off the frosting (I hadn't eaten anything all day) and then took the cake into my room where I threw it away. Last night, I was watching TV in my room with my older sister and she threw something away...I DIDN'T FUCKING HIDE THE FUCKING CAKE! Maybe she didn't notice, if she did though...I am in so much fucking trouble if she tells my mom.
There is this guy I strongly dislike, alcoholic and has a vendetta against me. He wants to spend the holidays with us. Fuck.

I fucking ate too much. Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting.

If there is no us, there is no me.
Were I to be free of you I would disintegrate. Everything I know would change. I can't be without you, it would take an inner strength which I do not possess to rip myself from you. Your strength is my normality. I would lose my mind if I could not have you.
I want you completely. No more holding back, I give myself to you. Your hateful love is my only desire.

Uncle: "Are you cold?"
Me: "Yes."
Uncle: "You're rail thin!"
Mom: "Isn't she, though!?"

-Not sure if this makes me feel better or if they are just lying.

"When you hit a wall - of your own imagined limitations - just kick it in." -Sam Shepard

I don't know what to say. I think I've gained weight which has sent me into the depths of self-hate. Why do I lose my drive and my will to be thin.

Despair.
It's all fucked up. I feel far away from it all, lost.
The empty hollowness, it's seen as the skin tightens on the bones. The fragile transparency as the body becomes thinner and the skin has no fat beneath it.
On my bed, I rock back and forth feeling an anxiousness for having eaten provolone. Soon I'm going to break, I can feel it bubbling at all my surfaces, gagging me as it gurgles in my throat, blinding me as it presses behind my eyes. All I can think about is feeling my bones protruding through my skin then pushing past and breaking through.
Rawboned: thin with bones showing under the skin

High-flying shit.

I awoke to thoughts about my future. There were no obstacles in the road, it was smooth and unencumbered. The pristine condition was what frightened me. What if I have devised all the nightmarish futures for myself, but they have no truth in reality? I belong to no one. No one belongs to me. I have no ties, I have no holds on me, why do I linger? What do I fear?
Imperfection, losing, failing, love, humiliation, confrontation, friendship, reality, independence.
The chance for perfection.
The chance to win.
The chance to prove everyone/myself wrong.
The chance to be in love.
The chance to be held in esteem.
The chance to speak my mind.
The chance to have friendship.
The chance to feel alive.
The chance to be independent.

Leggings...everywhere. I'm not allowed to wear leggings, I'm too fat. 

New goal: get a pair of cute patterned leggings. 

What I have to do: lose 2 inches on my nasty hips, otherwise I will look like a fucking fat cow ready for slaughter. 

If I could reach her, we would meld: one being. I would make it. I would no longer feel unsure. My future would be opened, freedom would be within my grasp. No more struggling, no more false hope. The blurred lines of reality would clear, I would realize that I had the strength to achieve.

Ever so slightly, I reach for the stars.

 They can't see the hopefulness I feel. 

If they saw they would break me down.

Tell me I'm wrong.

Tell me I'll never make it.

I'm too weak.

Tomorrow will be different, won't it?

Out of sight, out of mind

I'm screaming.
Every pore is oozing the stench of screams.
Can you feel my despair, can you see it?
She wants all of you, nothing left.
All hers.
I desire to give myself to her, what is holding me back?
A dark black hole, it lays itself upon me, blanketing me in drear isolation.
I can be characterized by nothing.
Help me, I'm alone.
Help me, I'm falling apart.
Help, I hate myself.
Help...I just...

I felt it, suffocation. It came to me, slow and thick like a fog. I tried to breathe, but couldn't draw enough oxygen to keep me sane. There was no escaping, I began to fear that the panic would not abate. 

Wearily, I heaved myself from the dirty carpet.

I took a wary breath, testing my lungs capacity. 

Finding them to be capable of natural respiration, I resumed living.

Nobody believes in me. 

What I need is someone to believe in me; in what I can do, in my talents, in my abilities. But they see me only as what they have predetermined as me. They will not allow me to take flight, they will hold on until I'm no longer strong enough to fly away. My wings will wither and I, a jejune bird, will die in an inhumanely small cage. 

I thought that my life had turned around and I was being given a chance at normality. When suddenly, the hands, the black, slimy, vise-like hands of those unseen monsters gripped my skin. I shuddered and moaned at their touch, the all too familiar feeling of falling into comatose darkness enveloping me. The more you struggle, the more you begin to realize they are in your bones. A part of you, eating you from the inside, there is no escape.  

He is fucking annoying. His voice grates against my eardrums. Go away.

Blood

I met a girl who has never known her father. I know him as my uncle. Every trait was his, her nose, her mouth, her eyes, her chin...she was his. Her adventurous spirit, the way her emotions threatened to spill out, and the way she sighed when she tried to hold back tears. That she would have the same outward appearance is not abnormal, but to share the same passions, it is uncanny. She said her mother was a prissy city girl and she never knew why she had such a desire for adventure.
Last night, she found the reason.

"I was always an unusual girl.

My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality;

just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean..."

-Lana Del Rey

Anxiety, climbing to an ultrasonic high. Depression, falling to an infrasonic low. Hold me down, make me see sense. Look at me, before I disappear altogether. Am I so poisonous? 

Maybe she is fed up with me, she knows, as I know, how much better I could do. Yet, ever does the cage around me hold its place. No wrath, no shaking will bring it down. 

I feel ill with the belittling way I treat myself. I'm so tired of trying. I'm so tired of my self-hate.

I am afraid. 

Afraid of growing up. 

Being held responsible for actions and words. 

Responsibility.

 The real test of strength and bravery. 

I am a coward.

Would crying ease the frustration that I feel; soothe the irritation brewing in my mind? Why do I abuse myself in this unspeakable manner? Scratching off my skin, so much pleasure in my grotesque task, reaping the justified feeling of burning skin. Somebody make me stop, make me love myself. I need him, I love him.

I don't want to give up, but do I really have a choice? I cannot see the future, I cannot see the past. I'm standing still in a life of disarray. Yet what does a person, whose every hope proves false, aspire to believe in? Life does not get easier, it chokes your dreams. I thought I was a fighter, but I became the victim of sick self-doubt. I no longer have any independence, I am dependent on invisible drugs.

Flat

I hate the way you make me feel, yet I dream of having you hold me in your arms; to be safe with you. But you don't see me anymore. I am nothing to you. You should have stayed away, I longed for you less. Now, now you're gone. You said goodbye, left me uncertain, is there a reality, a hope which is not false, or an emotion that can combat the apathy?

Lethargies

I am so sorry. So very, very sorry for losing control. For pretending I could live a normal life. I speak of hating myself. I complain about my hideous form. But I do nothing. I weary of my worthlessness; my lethargy. I ate 5 graham crackers. I ate a cookie. I ate cheese. I am a hideous monster I don't deserve to live. I WANT TO DIE. I do not want to be me anymore. I don't want to be the 'unsociable' one. I just want out. Out of this moldering cage which has held me trapped for too long. Somebody hold me down, make me starve, make me remember the languid feeling of extreme thin. I know I will never be good enough; that I will always be the one who is passed over and never seen. But I will be thin in the mean time. I shall not be passed over for the reason that I am the fat one. I WILL HAVE BONES. I will see hipbones. I will see thigh bones. I will count every single one of my ribs in my fucking rib cage. I will feel the faintness of a desperately beating heart. Nevermore shall I wait for the perfect timing. Nor shall I wait until I am away from those who wish to hospitalize me.

When will I be known for who I am? Do I truly want to be seen? I want just one day where I am happy to be me, where I don't feel that people are against who I am; that they will like and accept me.

I never realized how much of a perfectionist I am. I knew I had perfectionist qualities; not easily forgiving towards myself for failing at an endeavor, no matter how unimportant. Today, however, has brought me head to head with the issue. Merriam Webster defines 'perfectionism' as: a disposition to regard anything short of perfection as unacceptable; especially : the setting of unrealistically demanding goals accompanied by a disposition to regard failure to achieve them as unacceptable and a sign of personal worthlessness.

I had this idea in the back of my head, which has had me chasing memories. I caught up with them today. My mom was talking about my dad and how after going on an anti-depressant he stopped hitting me and my sister. She also told me, however, that I was especially beat on. She started to cry then and said that one day I was going to have to come face to face with the pain to be able to move on. All I could do was smile at her, I mean, why cry? But also because it made things fall into place. Yet I keep seeing myself as an abused animal, like when I'm around men I get all freaked out and am always looking for a way to escape from them. I hate it when they can see me. I think that's why I want to lose weight so bad, I just want to disappear, to not have to feel like I'm an elephant in the room. They can't possibly be mad at me if I'm too tiny to be noticed.

Cold Day

Cheesy Smiles

Well, it's been a long time, not that it fucking matters, but whatever. I've been cutting and am displeased with myself.
I don't fit in any where and I just want to know what I can do. I'm so afraid of everything.