Today was okay until about 30 minutes ago.
I woke up ready to starve. I thinspired myself and starved myself gleefully throughout. My mother then came to take me shopping at Target for my step brother's fiance's bridal shower BLEGH. Anyway after we got back, I was pretty confident. I began writing things like "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels" and "Perfect pretty princesses let their perfect bones show" over and over and over again on paper. It was a wonderful way to pass the time and distract myself from eating.
Then I ate No Pudge brownie. And peanuts. Fuck.
I knew I had to be punished. It's one of Ana's comandments. So out come my razor blades and I make five cuts along the inside of my forearm jut below the elbow. As I sit there waching it bleed, something that fascitnates me, I admire my work when my mother bursts in just in time to see me jump and hide something small under my thigh.
Of course, she wanted to know what it was. And I couldn't just say "Nothing" and have her go "Oh okay, have a nice night honey." God, how I wish my mother was ignorant. No. She siezes the blade and is now concerned with my goddamned mental health, wanting to help "occupy my day" by "making daily plans" like SHUTTHEFUCKUPANDLETMELIVEMYOWNFUCKINGLIFE,WOMAN.
She doesn't understand something: I'm not depressed. I'm not suicidal. And I DEFINATELY DONT WANT HER FUCKING HELP. With anything. At all. Ever. Ever.
Today whilst we were out we went to an estate sale in an old folks community. And I can't tell you how much I wanted to buy that fucking house. Secluded, teal, Florida style. Big open space for entertaining, wonderfully private patio, all for me to starve in PEACE. Peace. Aloneness. Anorexic Alice in Hungerland. Surrounding myself with Ana and all her sick beauty.
Tomorrow is a new fucking day, whore. I will wake up in Hungerland. I will be beautiful and perfect and frolic in the magic of starvation.
Pitbull is really really sexy. He makes me feel slutty.
Anyway I really fuckin' hope my mom doesn't look into this. I hope I get to see my therapist and weave perfect little lies through my perfect teeth. Teeth that have not been tainted or spoiled with food. I will fill my empty tummy with water. Yummy, perfect, sweet, zero-calorie water.
Isn't it odd, the way we treat the act of eating?
Before eating: "I really shouldn't do this.. I haven't eaten in a while tho... And I'm really hungry.. Maybe just a little bit.. Just a little."
During: "This is so fucking GOOD OMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOOOOOMMM"
Directly after: "Must purge. Must purge. MUST FUCKING PURGE. Im fat. Im fat. Im so fucking fat. Im gonna gain like 300 pounds. Fuck my life. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FuckIT."
30 minutes later: "wow.. I ate 36 peanuts.. What the fuck is wrong with me."
I literally regret EVERY FUCKING THING I ingest. Every fucking thing. Every morsel. Every tiny calorie. I used to eat 2,000 calories a day, holy shit. The only thing I dont ever regret putting in my tummy is water. And yet, I still fuck up. I still induce that sucky feeling. Why...
New thinspiration: the ex-fiance in Date Movie. Look her up. She's hot as FUCK.
Staying up into the wee hours of the morning so I can sleep in and not eat breakfast or whatever. Hopefully mom will forget about this shit. My nails fucking suck.. My hair sucks. My skin sucks. Fuck my life. I don't want help so soon. I want to be thin and weak and beautiful on my own first. God I can't fucking wait to move out.
My shirt sleeve is stained with blood cause I used it to cover up when the bitch came snooping. This is like one of my favorite shirts too.. fuck.
I need to get laid.
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