'Sometimes I want to have myself all figured out, like a mathematical equation. But I'd probably hate being able to reduce myself to that. Just as much as I'd hate being graded for it. Let's see: Emma + Louise + Welsh=? Well, it's not winning that counts; it's how you don't play their game, right? I think, at this point, I'd give myself a C+. And if anyone asked me, right this second, whether I'd go to the right or to the left, I'd say - to the right. And straight on till morning.'

I got all hyped up for nothing.
Again.
Such a fucking shame, really.

If you really knew me.

1. I desperately want to be accepted
2. I am afraid of not winning this battle
3. Just now I am figuring out who I am
4. I have a hard time with the concept of forgiving
5. I smile all the time because I don't know what else to do
6. My eating disorder is not the problem; it's the symptom of my real problems
7. Sometimes I just want you to listen, not talk, not interrupt, not offer advice or suggestions. Sometimes all I want is you to sit there and listen and to feel like I have been heard
8. Sometimes the weight of my sadness is bone-crushing, like the pressure of water down deep
9. I hurt myself because it's the only feeling that I can stand to feel
10. I am terrified of not being good enough
11. At the start of the next day, before I even brush my teeth, I ask God to help me stop myself from hurting either myself or anyone around me
12. I'm deathly afraid of growing up and dealing with all the things a grown-up must think about. 13. There are so many things I wish I could say
14. Words and actions hurt me even though they weren't meant to
15. I cry when you hug me because of the emptiness and pain I know I'll feel when you finally do let me go
16. I am so incredibly mean to myself. I wouldn't talk to any other person on earth the way I talk to myself
17. What I want right now more than anything is love from myself. If I had more self love, the criticisms, the negativity, the thoughts, the low self-esteem, the self-doubts would all cease
18. I sometimes need your help, but I'm not sure how to tell you this
19. I really do care about you, more than you could even imagine
20. I cry when no one is around
21. I hold back from full recovery because I hang on to anorexia as an excuse to not chase after my real goals
22. I don't like the eating disorder, I just am having a hard time disliking it
23. I felt too ashamed, too dirty, too embarrassed and too scared to tell you that I couldn't cope without hurting myself
24. I have a very difficult time seeing myself as a girl/woman/anything feminine
25. I want to make a difference in the world
26. I am unable to see my potential right now but it helps me to hear you when you tell me it's there
27. I'm afraid to know myself and understand my feelings and wishes
28. As I'm smiling and laughing, I have voices screaming and degrading me in my head
29. My family is more dysfunctional than I like to admit
30. When I laughingly say I don't want to grow up, I'm not joking. I really am terrified
31. I believe that everyone's flaws should be accepted and forgiven except for mine
32. I'm always in a state of obsession. My mind is always going a mile a minute and my ED is ALWAYS berating me for something. I never have a moment of pure peace or silence in my head
33. I'd love to escape to somewhere by the beach, eat, drink, dance, without a care in the world
34. I lied my way through treatment and I'm now paying the consequences
35. I'm scared to leave the student world and enter the real world alone
36. I miss my parents like mad
37. I feel there's an empty hole in me
38. I feel guilty about all the pain I feel
39. I hate, absolutely hate, feeling vulnerable and I will do almost anything to avoid it
40. I feel nothing most of the time and I wait to see your reactions before I know how to respond/reply/react myself
41. I am really sensitive although I appear unfeeling
42. I'll lie to everybody to keep them from being hurt or from hurting them
43. I feel like a complete failure
44. What I want most is to just hear that I am ok just the way I am even if my natural state isn't common, normal or cool
45. What you said/did hurts
46. Sometimes I feel like I don't belong anywhere and I feel like an alien and that I don't belong in this time because my outlook feels so foreign
47. I don't like myself right now and I need support, but then when I get that support, I'm scared to let go of it again, scared that I'll lose it
48. I still sleep with a stuffed animal
49. No one could berate me more than I do myself
50. I hate being needy and yet I long to be taken care of
51. Without this mask I don't really know who I am
52. I'm not trusting of anyone
53. I simultaneously crave both fitting in and standing out. I feel like a failure when I'm different, and I feel like a failure when I blend
54. The ED was the only constant in my life, the only thing which felt unchanging regardless of what external events happened. The ED was the only guarantee, the only certainty, the only thing loyal to me throughout everything that came my way
55. I wish that I didn't hate myself but at the same time, I don't know how it would feel to like myself
56. I am so afraid of being in a relationship, and I fear I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life 57. I wear my weight like an armour
58. The bigger my smile, the larger my pain
59. I use my body to convey what my words cannot
60. I always feel like a burden but usually I hide that
61. I don't want you to give up on me
62. I have big dreams and wish that I believed enough to make them become a reality
63. I don't even know myself
64. I want to love my father, but I cannot figure out how
65. For years, I longed for someone to know my secret, in the hope they'd stop the pain and stop me from hurting because I didn't care enough about myself to stop myself
66. When I do something stupid, and remember it later, the "me" in the memory always looks fat and ugly
67. I have no confidence in myself or my abilities
68. I struggle to believe in myself at times and fear being hurt by criticism but I want to be courageous and stop shrinking back from those things I am gifted at
69. I will not show that I am mad at you. In fact, I probably won't even feel mad at you, unless someone else reassures me that it IS something to be mad about
70. I want to find something that will make my parents proud of me
71. I don't think I really give a shit about how I look. I only talk about it so much as a way of verbalizing all the fears inside me that I don't know how to identify.
72. I love you even when you don't think I do
73. I pray that I will still be able to have children someday
74. I'm so, so sorry for all the times I lied to you
75. I am scared shitless because I don't know what to do with my life and I cannot cope without direction
76. I only pretend to be immature: I'm scared to show you just how serious and deep I can be.
77. I need help believing in myself
78. I don't know who I am or what I'm all about
79. I don't feel that I deserve your unconditional love
80. Even when it doesn't look like it, I am trying, and I'm doing my best in the moment
81. I won't ever measure up to "you"
82. I harbour an immense amount of guilt over my actions and this prevents me from telling you, as I don't want you to shoulder my pain and my burden, or know me for what I am.
83. I am really afraid that I could really exceed beyond my wildest dreams. But I have never let myself try, because what if I succeed then fail miserably
84. I would give anything to get out of my head, out of my own body.
85. I'm scared that this will kill me

"You've got him on the brain"

Yeah, maybe I do. But it's not like I want to.

Today was great. I forgot about everything, actually felt happy and free and everything I've been searching for all this time.
Too bad it was only for today. I need to recapture this feeling.

Inky blue, she gives in to you, she takes you home and away from home and in the dark tunnel there she waits, lonely hot, like fire, like waste, like the sticky smell of rubbish in the heat and there’s no end to her waiting, her patience, her simple, easy smile, and she takes your hand and leads you away from me and I can’t stop her, not this death, not this woman waiting in the darkness like a dancer with veils, revealing nothing, she takes you slowly and then faster, and the ache of death is nothing compared to the smell of rubbish in the heat.

They all say I'm stable. The doctors, psychologists, counsellors, teachers.

I failed eating, failed drinking, failed not cutting myself into shreds. Failed friendship. Failed sisterhood and daughterhood consequently. Failed mirrors and scales and phone calls.

Good thing I'm stable.

You've reduced me down to one word, a simple equation. I hate it. I shouldn't be able to be defined this easily.

"He wrote to Connie with the same plaintive melancholy note as ever, sometimes witty, and touched with a queer, sexless affection. A kind of hopeless affection he seemed to feel for her, and the essential remoteness remained the same. He was hopeless at the very core of him, and he wanted to be hopeless. He rather hated hope. 'Une immense espérance a traversé la terre', he read somewhere, and his comment was:'--and it's darned-well drowned everything worth having.' "

Lady Chatterley’s Lover- D.H. Lawrence.

I read this somewhere today, and it reminds me of a friend who I haven't actually met. These internet friendships are so confusing.

I can't write for shit anymore.
Then again, maybe I never could.

I'm sick, and for once I actually wanted the day off school. I don't want to see anyone, not feeling the way I feel now. This hopelessness is getting really fucking old. Maybe I need a new school, new boyfriend, new everything. Maybe that would fix it. I'm tired of feeling so low within myself, maybe I should just be myself for once?
Problem is, I don't really know who I am.

benzaldehyde
vanillin
aldehydes
carbonyl
ketones
esters
formaldehyde
acetone
diethyl
cellulose
transmutation
alpha particles
nitrogen gas
neptunium
plutonium
nuclear fusion
fission reactions
radioactive nuclei

None of this makes any sense to me. Thank God I'm switching out of chemistry next semester.

It starts eyes closed
to fingers crossed
to I swear
I say
from hands between legs
to whatever it takes
to hotel rooms
and emergency exit doors.

But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist;
flesh exists. Kisses tie our mouths
in a thicket of new veins,
and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever
and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.

It was late by then. Everything was dark, and the house was full of people. For a moment I pictured more and more people pouring into the room, looming and fading in a crazy crush of bodies. It would be so easy to be trampled to death in a dark, crowded room. I imagined lying on the floor, blood pouring out of me, my limbs at strange angles, my lungs struggling to get air in after someone accidentally stamped on me. I mean, that's what I wanted, isn't it?

I took a deep breath and made my mind change the subject.

Open the fridge and put
My heart on a plate.
I'm just as you left
me, and I taste even better
leftover.
Pale fury, why did you leave me?
You're prickly
in the morning. So
prickly.
This isn't a cooking show.
This isn't chemistry or geography.
It's physics. Pure physics,
I'm falling fast and faster still.
So fall with me. Fall down with me.
And stay.

I woke up in the middle of the night and I could hear him. I could HEAR him. It was as if he was sitting on my bed whispering in my ear. And he said, "Why did this happen? It's not fair." And he said it over and over until I put my hands over my ears and couldn't hear him anymore. Oh God, I feel like I'm falling from a great height and no one can catch me.

I don't care.
I care too much.
I hate him.
I want him.
I'm too fat.
I'm too skinny.
I'm a slut.
I'm a virgin.
I'm a horrible person.
I'm a good friend.
I'm smartest in the class.
I'm an imbecile.
I'm a liar.
I'm honest.
I'm a cheat.
I'm an angel.
I'm a fake.

I'm all of these things and none of them.
But one thing I know is, I'm fucking real.

Even though I know how wrong it is, I wish I'd gone along with what you wanted.
At least then I'd have some sort of claim on you, however wrong it is. It's still something, and something is better than nothing.
Right?

Pouring acetone down my throat, maybe this will stop the pain.
Maybe if I slit my wrists, I won't have to see you every single day.
Maybe if I swallow those pills, a few too many, I won't ache inside everytime I hear your name.
Maybe if I pull the trigger, just maybe, you'll want me again.

The way I want you.
That's all I ask for.






I'm such a fucking stereotypical angsty teenager.
I hate it.

I did it again.
Fuck, I'm so weak. They all think I'm so strong but that's only because I don't let them see how I really feel.
I hope they don't see it, because then it'll be like last time and I really don't want that.
I suppose it's all my fault.

What's the difference between hate and love? It seems you can't make up your mind as to how you feel about me. To be honest, I'd rather if you dropped out of my life, off the face of the Earth. Your selfishness and over-inflated ego are making my life hell, and I get the feeling that you really couldn't care less.

My body is now a cage. I wish I could shed my skin. Not think anymore. Maybe then I would forget about you. You've already forgotten about me, moved on. I only see fit that I should be able to do the same. But I guess it just doesn't work that way.

Because I’m angry. I’m angry at the world, I’m angry at myself, and I’m angry at you. Because I try really fucking hard to trust you and I can’t, because as much as I know about you, you don’t tell me things. Because I hate who I am half the time and although I’m good at keeping face and hiding it, I’m so fucking mad at this world I can’t handle it sometimes. Because you fucked it up twice and every time you come crawling back I feed into it, even though nothing changes. Because I can’t let go and the thought of doing so scares the living hell out of me. Because I don’t fucking feel safe or right unless I’m connecting to something technological. Because I’m a hypocrite, because I’m exactly what I hate and what I tell my male friends not to put up with. But you fucking made me this way. With your lies and your scheming and god knows what else - it’s your fault that I’m this fucking crazy. Because sometimes I remind myself of my mother and as much as I love her I don’t want to be like her. Because I’m trying so hard but I’m so torn it hurts. Because I cry nearly every day and it makes me feel like a piece of angsty over-dramatic shit. Because you do these things to me and then make me feel like I need to apologize. Because I’m stressed out and I don’t know what I think or how I feel. Because you’re never there when I need you most. Because you’re never here, period. Because I don’t feel like you even really fucking care that you’re not here. Because I shouldn’t be with you - you’re the last person I should be with. Because half the time I feel like I don’t deserve you even though realistically you probably don’t deserve me after all the loyalty and respect I’ve shown you and all the shit treatment you’ve shown me. Because not telling someone is the same as lying. Because I’m sick and tired of feeling second best in your book and because the words don’t mean anything anymore. Because I don’t believe you. Because when I hear compliments they mean more from other people than from you, because I feel like yours are forced. I just fucking hate this. I hate it so much. And I hate that I take it so much to heart and that I’m so angry all the time. I’m SO FUCKING ANGRY. And I’m not an angry person. And there’s nothing I can be angry at. I don’t know where to target how I feel or how to deal with it.
I just want something to fucking make it stop and nothing can. Especially you.


This, this, this. So much.

I think it's time for some copy and pasting, because I'm a lazy shit.
This is things that speak to me, made me sad or happy, or just expressed what I'm feeling in a way that I can't.

"I want to be the person that you look nice for. I want to be the person that makes you smile just by looking at you. I want to be the person you write songs and poems for. I want to be the person you wish for when you have a chance. I want to be the person invading your dreams. I want to be the person that you miss way too much. I want to be the person that you always want to talk to. I want to be the person that makes you laugh. I want the power to make your day, or break your heart. I want to be the person you regret meeting, and the person who changed everything. I want to make you feel things you’ve never felt. I want to be the person you’ve cried over, and hurt yourself for. I want to be the person you bought those shoes, or listened to that band because of. I want you to think about me, even when you don’t want to. I want you to chase me around. I want you to hate yourself for wanting me.

Basically, I want to be everything you are to me."
Rella from EB wrote this.



And this.
"I keep on telling myself I’m going to stop thinking about you so damn much. I’m not going to chase after you desperately and pathetically, or wait around for you anymore. I’m not going to stare at you across rooms filled with people, or get nervous when I’m near you. I’m not going to laugh at everything you say, or rely on you to make or break my day. I’m not going to be a fool anymore. I’m done letting you distract me from everything, and letting you disappoint me time after time. You are not my life. You are not my only hope. You are just one boy. But tell me one thing, why am I the one having to sacrifice everything just to feel normal again? Why can’t you stop being so damn cute? Why do you keep on talking to me like you care? Why do you flirt so frequently? Why do you lead me on and then push me away? It’s because of you I ever thought this would work out. You started it all the day you asked me my name. So why should I give up everything? You’re equally at fault here, and I’m not letting go of this until you do.

And maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to get over you. Maybe I like it when you smile at me, or talk to me. Maybe I like having some delusions. There’s nothing wrong with a little false hope to get a girl by. We’re all doing the best we can, and you make me feel happy. Sometimes, that’s enough, especially when you have little else."



There's something else I want to post, but that can wait until tomorrow because it's really long and confusing and I can't be fucked typing it all up right now.

I've been trying to turn all of this despair and hatred inside me into wild abandon. I thought that if I could, I could defuse their effects. Give it all a context to make it seem worthwhile. I don't know. I've been fucking around and giving myself to any old body for god knows how long and I wanted just once for it to happen in the right place and at the right time and with the right boy and it would all be cool and it would all be beautiful and it would be stronger than the effect of any drug I could take, and it would be my salvation. A way out. So I hooked up with him. It felt good, and it felt interesting, but in the end it didn't mean shit. It meant nothing.

So yeah. Big deal. People are what you want them to be, or maybe not. I guess you shut out a lot of the things you don't want to see. I wanted someone to cling to, someone to save me, so I found that in him. The real him and the boy who existed in my head were two entirely different people. I don't know how much was invented and how much was real. Maybe it doesn't even matter.

I wanted to stop being me and start being someone else's toy, but I didn't think I'd have it in me. But once someone has taken a photo of me, I'm still here. They photos will still be on the net or whatever, a record of me. A record of a time when I was young and pretty and people wanted me.

The real me doesn't even matter. The real me will be taken out of the equation. And it will probably be a lot better that way. That's really all that matter's, isn't it? Something will always exist that was once mine. Keeping a record of myself. That way at least there'll be something. One day soon I'll be old. I'll probably be dead or something. I don't know.

My whole identity is tied up in this.

This one particular song I used to listen to all the time is on the stereo. The final track from this particular album, which is kind of fitting. The singer is being taken over. She's practically ready to kill herself. All fucked up over a boy and only because he looks so good. It kills me that the lyrics of some sticky pop song can so totally reflect my exact thoughts and feelings. I mean it. It's really fucking annoying.

So many people are asking me, "why'd you do it??" & "why with him of all people?!"
This is said with disapproving eyes and shaking heads.
You really want to know why?

Because I want to give myself to as many people as possible before I'm old and ugly and nobody wants me anymore. You know, seriously, after a certain point when we're not as young as this any more, our lives will pretty much be over. There'll be nothing left. A new group of kids will come up to replace us and that will be that. Is there going to be anything left of us? No. Not even a memory. So why the fuck shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I have fun while I still can? Because there are guys out there who want me. That's power.

It's probably wrong to get so wrapped up in a person's looks, but what else is there, really? I've been thinking about what he said. About being young and good looking. Making the most of it. It doesn't last forever. It sort of made sense. He's young and pretty, I'm young and pretty (sort of), and maybe nothing really matters beyond that. I don't know. I wish I wasn't so shallow, so obsessed with looking good.

Every time he's with a girl, I'm sure he feels it slipping. When there's a younger girl frantically sucking his dick, he must look down and almost pity her - I mean because of how desperate the girl must seem. I mean. Desperate for something. An idea. Something from the past that she's trying to recapture, or at least remember. Whatever. Whenever he's with a girl I'm sure he must look at her at think, one day I'll be like that. Maybe the fear is what motivates him. Maybe under the swagger and the perfect hair and the cool shirts and the come-hither glances, there's someone who's terrified because he knows one day it's all going to end. I guess he must feel this, because I feel exactly the same way sometimes.

What this means.

It's not even the act of going down on a guy, not as such. If you break it down, analyse the act in itself, the physicality of it, it's not particularly significant. On its own, his cock in my mouth doesn't really feel like anything much, it's just a piece of meat, warm, and it tastes of sweat, salt and something else I can't quite describe, and that's it, period. In a purely physical sense it means nothing. It could be any boy's. What it means, really, is that it's his, that I can do this to him, make him feel good, that I can make him say my name in the dark. That's half of it.

The other half, I know, is when I'm sucking him off, I belong to him. I'm just here because he wants someone to make him cum. I could be nothing at all. I'm only here to suck his cock; he can do whatever he wants with me and I'll let him. That's the other half. It's this kind of submission that's so intense it's like a drug, and while I'm doing this, I feel like nothing at all, I disappear, I'm totally erased. Gone. I like that.