.

I have a routine. It's comfortable. Since the beginning of September, I've settled into it. Of course, for the first few days of the month I was still on a binge/purge kick, but that had to end. I stopped caring about how much blood I was throwing up, but I should care. If not for me, for everyone else.

My routine is waking up at 6am. Leaving out my 'breakfast'; usually a few flakes of cereal sprinkled on with about a tablespoon of soymilk. I leave the bowl on the counter. I fill up 3 liters of ice water, have a mug of peppermint tea, and count out 33 little pieces of lettuce from the salad bag in the vegetable drawer. I have the lettuce throughout the day. There's not much to it but it keeps my stomach from being too obviously loud. Late afternoon, I drink 1/2 of a 'zero calorie' vitamin water, which is actually 5 calories. If my stomach is hurting too bad I heat up mugs of hot water and drink it. If I can skip dinner, I do. If I can't, I eat 1/4-1/2 of what's made, and hide the rest.

It doesn't matter. Everything is like it always is. I'm mopey and stupid and can't seem to write as cheerfully as I talk. For people who only know me online, I probably seem depressing/depressed, but the truth is in real life that I'm a very happy seeming person. I wear neon rainbow colors and yell a lot and generally am regarded by friends as the happiest person they know.

Lately, I haven't been too happy. My parents and I have been fighting constantly about food. It's push and shove and I hate being pushed so I shove back as hard as I can. It seems like everytime someone calls me on the phone these days I have to tell them I'm going to call back later because I'm in the middle of crying. I don't usually call back.

I know what happens next. I lose all my friends. Even Dakota. Recently we were talking for six hours a day and we'd gotten so close, but I don't want to talk to anyone at all anymore.