crash&burn.

[morning]
 Last night, I cut again.
   I dragged the sharp tip into my thigh three times, thinking of the weight and feel of the burrito I ate in my stomach. I thought I was going to end my day yesterday with 44 calories, but mom made me food and sat with me while I ate it.
   fatstupidbitch.shedidn'tforceyou.youateit.youchewed.youswallowed.youateyouateyouateyouateyouateyouate.
   It's too dark to see what I'm doing, and I know cutting won't make me thinner, but I need to do it. I see each layer of me come undone. Press once, epidermis. Press twice, dermis. Press trice, hypodermis. After that, my layers are adipose, muscle, then bone. I press two more times after hypodermis, into adipose and muscle. But not to bone. If I cut myself to the bone, I would be afraid by how much flesh I have, how far away from my bones the rest of me is. I would go insane and cut all of me it off.

  I had a dream last night.
  In the dream, I looked about eight, around the time I first got the idea in my head about not-eating.
  My lips were cracked and bleeding a little. My mom tried to give me chapstick.
  "No, mommy, there's too much in it,"girldoll-me says.
  "What do you mean, baby?' The mother asks, brows furrowed.
  "There's too many calories," I tell her.
  As soon as the C-word tumbles out of my bleeding mouth, I turn eleven; deciding I needed to lose twenty pounds, then twelve; sticking fingers down my throat, then thirteen;skipping breakfast and lunch, then fourteen; fresh out of the hospital and breaking apart. Then, finally, fifteen, and she's saying "You've got to eat."
   Her words turn into a chant and the chapstick turns into a buttered cob of corn. My mother turns into a monster, a chanting thing trying to shove food in my mouth.
   "You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! You've got to eat! " 
---
[night]
I carved 'fat' into my leg again. It's pretty deep I guess. It will stay with me forever.

   There's conflict at dinner, like always.
   I eat exactly 500 calories, the magicOMGtoolittle number that people gasp at. I exercise to 1530, and lose 0.3 pound of myself.