Ok, so this is going to grave and poignant for me to write.  But I have realized that the more I write the more I learn.   Please take caution while reading this and only read if you are prepared for some raw emotions. 

I am sober now, but my tears are flowing like a flood so I can barely see the screen.  I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me?  I am FAT-literally!  I weighed in at an all time high for the past 18 months-103 pounds!  That is a triple digit!!!!  I promised myself that once I hit triple digits I am over-I mean I am dead at my own hand.  I never wanted to be here again-it fucking aches like a snakebite.

WARNING: DEPRESSING and DISTURBING!

I want to fucking die.  The sacrifice of all of my weight loss comes down to this triple digit shit now? 

Why didn’t I walk away from this hell when I had a chance?  Why the Fuck did I first puke as a little elementary school child?  Why the FUCK did I learn the tools of starving?  NO WAIT-I don’t STARVE-I AM FAT!  I am a failure; I am rubbish and void of a soul!  I wish I could articulate this self-hatred that I have?  I don’t think I am ugly or mean, but I FEEL fat!  Does anyone understand that?  I EXPERIENCE the fat like it is a hiking backpack on my back.  I can feel the cellulite swell like a black hole!

What I know:  I know that “feeling fat” really means something else like how I feel about myself.  I can understand that concept cognitively and I can effortlessly come up solutions that would succeed.  However I can’t FEEL what I intellectually know.  I FEEL my fat caving in on me like the crater that may have killed the dinosaurs.  That is exactly it!  My fat is going to kill me off-or rather my feeling of fat that is.  But what do my feelings matter-I AM SHIT anyway! 

When I walk my skin crawls and the concept of the flab expanding on my thighs CONSUMES me.  My walls have closed in now that I am over 100 pounds.  I can’t handle it anymore.  I have lost all decency and my world in now gorged with my own self-inflicted misery.  How is it self-inflicted yet I can’t stop it?

But did I have a choice as a child?  If I could foresee the future would I have gone a different path?  I guess I will never know so it is not worth dwelling on the idea.

The thought of changing nowadays is so ridiculous!  Lord, I am contemplating taking 200 Tylenol pills because I am 103 pounds!  That is without eating for two days!  This lack of self-control I know is never ending.  I don’t think I know any other identity than a food-obsessed self?  I know it sounds crazy but I really have no idea what my life is like without the obsession with not eating food. 

You know what fucking hurts now?  I wish Krissy or Cassie were alive.  They would understand!  FUCK U DYLAN!  Why did you shoot her?  You had a whole school of 2,000 students and you chose her?  Why not me?  I miss my friends who have been killed!  I miss Cassie, Krissy, Lisa, Pat C, John, Meg, Brian, Amber, Mel, and Pat K.  I can’t even say whom I miss the most.  Actually I can (no offense to the others) but Krissy was my best friend.  She knew a great deal about my true self; these self-inflicted horrors and she was special to me. 

I want to eradicate this voice inside my head that shrieks “fat” all day and night.  But that voice is my own voice not some random voice. 

I feel hideous inside and I feel like I have wasted so much time, space, energy, and money on my own egocentric self.  I feel like something is falling away from me but I don’t know what it is.  The world is spinning around me and I am being beaten into the ground.  Although it really doesn’t matter because there are billions of other people in this world and many of who are in worse situations than I am.  I am just one little inconsequential spec on this planet.  What does it really matter if one person has vanished?

I have given it all away to (I don’t even know what to call it?) my anorexia just as a way to curl up with myself and avoid just BEING in this world.  I resent that fact but at the same time I VENERATE the whole idea of being lured into myself.  For some reason it is comforting to me to be so engaged in my own psyche?  See what I mean about the egotism!  Geez I am such filth! 

So do I die at my own hand or not?  I feel like this is Hamlet-LOL!!  “To be or not to be?”    I know I will be missed (by my friends and family) and I know their lives will never be the same.  Nevertheless I am still garbage and terrible and I honestly believe that the world may be healthier without me. 

That is one thing my family doesn’t understand; it isn’t simply a concept of not being loved.  I know many people love me and I know they will grieve for me.  But instead it is this fat (or futile) feeling I have about myself and if they can’t fix it and I can’t fix it what chance is there? 

I guess my tunnel is so fucking bleak that that I resign from this place.  The obscurity (or my demons, shadows etc.) is holding me so forcefully that I can’t breathe and I am suffocating from this anguish that never leaves me. 

When I was maybe eleven or twelve I would cut myself every single night (this lasted for a few months and I still do it) and I remember just sensing the physical pain rather than the emotional torture that kept me up all night.  That physical pain hurt but it detached the emotions that I couldn’t control or even experience.  I still can’t experience harsh feelings very well and I can’t even really explain the matters that hurt so badly.  I get so muddled up in anxiety and my brain turns to mush.               

 At least I know I am messed up-LOL!  I guess the ironic thing is that my friends and family never noticed these problems until recently.  About ten (plus or minus a few years) years passed and everyone thought I was a healthy whole person.  I sometimes think I am too, but then I realize that I am so used to my “idiosyncracies” that I don’t even realize what is conventional or not.    

****Most of my entries are sad, but I would like to point out that these are my deepest insecurities and I do have laughs during the day!  ***I LOVE MY FAMILY****