Monday, August 12, 2013

Jumping on the Band Wagon

12 August 2013

I stayed up until almost 4 in the morning skyping and texting the ex boy. It brought up a lot of feelings I really feel like I shouldn't have brought up. I feel awful and miserable. I'm so confused. I hate the fact that I still love him. I mean, what am I supposed to do? I'm not going to get into a relationship right before I go to college on the 16th. Besides, the reason I broke up with him in the first place was because of the long distance. Now that we're 5-6 hours apart instead of just 1 ½, I'd never see him. Ever. So there's no point. Besides, I'm probably going to go to college and find someone who's a much better fit for me, and who also makes me feel like I'm actually wanted and worth the fight. Someone who's more aggressive like me.

All that aside, I started restricting again. Seriously, consciously restricting. And by that I mean I tried. The only thing I've had to eat today was cookie dough at like 2. Which has a lot of calories, I know. And it sucks. But it's at least a start, right.

I don't have to justify myself to you.

Anyways. Now I'm having tea. I don't know what's for dinner. I'll only eat a little of it regardless. I'm sick of being fat, and now that I can't work out (my gym membership's gone since I'm going to college) I have to really work hard to keep my calories down. No more fat. Just skinny.

I've been chatting with Padfoot since yesterday. She's at full mental relapse and about half physical. And as much as it kills me on the inside because I know how much this sucks, I also know there's nothing I can do about it. It's between her and her therapist and her dietitian and her family and her disease. So c'est la vie. As bad as this sounds, I'm kind of a little relieved that I'm not the only one who couldn't recover.

I just hope I get legitimately skinny this time, like she did. She got down to 85 and she's only a little shorter than me. I don't think I ever even broke 130.

This time I'm going to get down to 120. Then 115. Then 110. Then 105. That's what I want right now. 105.

I'm going to be a weird fucking eating disorders counselor. I'll be studying to treat people who have them while I'm making mine worse.

Fuck me, man. Fuck me.

Cheers, kiddos.


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