crash&burn.

I just realized that yesterday was the first normal eating day I've had in....A really long time. And I really seriously was considering just to start fasting for a week to 'fix' it. I don't know. I feel sort of fake for being able to eat as well as I did yesterday. Like "oh, i ate, now i have no problems at all, i'm better!". Then I had the YOU'RE SUCH A STUPID FAKE WHORE, YOU NEVER HAD A FUCKING EATING DISORDER. LIAR thoughts. And that's basically where I still am this morning.

Just, I want to cling to this. The world is this giant sea filled with sharks and this may be a stupid, half broken boat but it's the only one in sight. Of course, I do at some point remember telling Tiger I'd swim an ocean full of sharks for her. That sentence totally comes back to bite me in the ass here. I feel bad that I might have more loyalty to my eating disorder than anything else. I mean, what else would you call lying to everyone, doing everything possible just to get back to this? I just want to be hurt. I can't stop thinking that I could have gone further. Been eighty-four pounds. I'm just so consumed by wanting to be as sick as I could possibily be.

I hear people telling me how skinny or bony I am all the time or saying oh-my-god if they happen to see my scars, but I just don't seem all that bad to me. I've got plenty of soft, squishy places. I'm not bony, really. My ribs stick out a teeny bit but that's mostly because of my huge ribcage. My collarbones have always stuck out. My hipbones don't really stick out much at all. My spine and shoulderblades do, but that's not really much. My scars aren't that bad either. I could have gone deeper. I just want to see every bone in my body and every inch of skin covered in scars because I deserve that pain.

At the same time, I need to leave this. Even if I'm not quite in dying-territory at the moment, having this isn't really allowing for a life anyways. But even if I start eating normally and stop cutting I still have borderline personality disorder. Which I can't just recover from. And I refuse to take medications. I feel so trapped by my own head and stuck in my body.

I worry though if it's not this, it'll be something else. I'm not smoking anymore primarily because I don't want to hurt Tiger with that. Her Dad recently died because of that, I couldn't do that to her. I couldn't meet her and have to go outside to chain-smoke. Plus with the fact my grandpa just died from lung cancer, I really shouldn't. I still have two packs. They're just there, kind of like a 'if I need to' thing. Like when I kept glass pieces under my bed even when I'd stopped cutting when I was fourteen. Just...if I needed to.
I'd really do anything to destroy myself. I'd drink. I'd take drugs. I could easily see myself hurting myself by sleeping with a lot of people, even though I really am paralyzed by the thought of being close to someone physically. Oh, and I'm a slut, so you know.

But I can't think that way. I've made a commitment to do this. To finally get better, not pretend to be better like I did the first time, and breathe. Just breathe.