I feel like all I talk about is me cutting, wanting to cut, wanting to not eat, having that whole hate myself because I did eat, and still eating.

And then I'm like "I should post something inspiring."
Then I think about it.
Nope, not happening today.
Like all I feel like I do with my life is cut.
Or think about cutting.
There's more than that, really.
I don't honestly cut very often anymore (it's becoming more frequent).
I took the Practice ACT.
I've made up like nine thousand tests from when I was gone.
I nearly cried when I saw a picture of me from last Halloween.
I was so freakin gorgeous.
J.P. said that it's not at my lowest weight, that I had gained some and didn't look as sickly.
Can I please be skinny?
And in response to that everyone is like "Fucking work for it."

I'm realizing that I need to quit letting J.P. rule my life.
I need to quit eating so much just because I'm scared to death that she'll got back to starving/purging.
I'm kind of scared that part my fear is a fear that she'll be skinnier than me rather than me being scared that she'll get really sick.

Apparently I don't realize that I'm as used to pain as I once was.
I have these thoughts of carving words into my various body parts.
A few months ago, even, this would be easy.
Then I go to actually do it.
My hands shake.
It hurts and I have to stop.
The cuts are shallow.
It's not like it used to be.
Only the release and blood is.
Everything is like when I started except the fact that my body is covered in scars.
And I'm not thirteen.
And I'm using razors instead of a chunk of glass.

Alright, I've decided that I'm gonna be skinny.
I've also decided (a while ago) that I hate my lexapro.
I've ALSO decided to tear up my foot before I go get J.P.
I also think I have a new follower?
HI!!! :D

Alright, I'm gonna go do that now.

At home, sick.

Haven't bothered to get up and do anything other than brush my hair and put on make up.
Not that I'm going anywhere.
OH and I got a bottle of water.
J.P. said we were gonna eat breakfast so that I can get all better, but I don't know if I want to.
I probably should.

J.P. and I are talking about whether or not I should get my lip pierced.
She doesn't want me to.
She hates them.
I think they'd be adorable.
I mean, once I got thinner and prettier.
It's hard to convince her (especially since I'm not trying very hard).

lost about seven pounds since the third

I've been sick most of the time.
I've only risked working out twice since Friday.
I'm too worried it's gonna make me faint.
Or sicker.
I really am tired of being sick.
The whole getting nauseous when I eat is nice.
The rest of it isn't.
I also apparently lost two inches since the last time I was measured??
Went from 5'6" to 5'4"?
...what?

I think they're just wrong.
I think I'm still 5'6".
I think that just makes me feel better about weighing so much.

One sixty three.
If I'm 5'6", that's a BMI of 26.3.
If I'm 5'4" that's a BMI of 28.0.
I'd prefer 5'6"... Although I'm probably five four.

Making me a whale.
Not even a cute whale.
Just a sick, nasty, huge whale.

I like this chick's eyes.

J.P. says she's not eating anymore.

So I said I'm not either.

She's better at this than I am, though.

I think with competition like that, though.

Maybe I'll be able to...

I should be working on finishing J.P.'s Christmas present.

She asked me to write her a story for Christmas.

I'm freaking out because I'm nowhere near done and Christmas is so close and who even knows we'll be together for then.

I hope we are.

I hope I get to see her face as she reads the story.

I hope it's good enough to be a Christmas present.

I hope it's the best she gets this year.

Oh I haven't mentioned that I don't get to go to school until my stomach pains subside.

Don't know how I'll be able to tell if I'm not eating.

I'll just keep drinking loads of water.

Smiling and pretending I'm alright as the pounds fall off, I guess.

Go to school eventually.

I'll get snake bites when I get down to 130 again.

If I can get my mom's permission.

If she gets to be sick, I get to be free.

When I get skinny, I'm gonna buy another pair of those Miley Cyrus jeans I used to have and love.

The ones that were ripped all up the front.

The skinny jeans.

I don't know what ever happened to them, but I loved them.

Especially after I got thinner.

They didn't really look good on me.

Ever.

One moment they were too tight, the next too loose.

Alright, I'm gonna go work on that story.

Toodles, lovelies.

cutting... (May be VERY triggering)

I feel perfectly and completely..not good enough.
J.P.'s friend....J broke up with his fiance recently.
Now he's hitting on her and trying to guilt her into sleeping with her.
He's sending her flirty texts while I'm standing right next to her while we talk to him at work.
She says that he's her only friend so she won't quit talking to him.
I'm like crazy sick.
I haven't gone to school since Friday when I was sent home after the blood drive we had.
So I'm sitting here with a pile of change because she's telling me that J flirting with her is EXACTLY like Anna treating her like crap.
And my blade isn't freaking sharp enough!
I'm scared she'll sleep with him.
Terrified, actually.
It makes me want to starve.
It makes me want to cut.
Anything but actually curling up into a ball and crying like I want to.
Anything to make me anything but weak like this.
She doesn't seem to understand how badly this hurts.
Sitting by and watching as he flirts with her, pretending I don't want to run away because I'm more than scared that he'll steal her.
It's so freaking hard to tear apart a disposable razor to get the individual blades.
They make me think of the knives downstairs and how much easier it would be to use them.
But these are safe to me.
Familiar.
Don't worry, I'll throw some hydrogen peroxide on them.
Crap, I cut my finger without even realizing it.
Yes, I have bandages all lined up.
Yes, I'm going down this path again.
I'm telling her it's fine to talk to him because it's so triggering and I really don't like feeling guilty from telling her she can't.
Now I've made her choose twice.
With J.R. and with J.
And I'll always have this fear that one day she'll realize they're both 20 times better than I am.
I get what I want and it's still a problem...
Great.

So, After I typed this all up, but before I found enough pictures to be satisfied posting, my computer died.
So rather than making a new post, I'm just gonna make this one super long.
I took a nap which only made me feel groggy.
Then I exercised a little. Which made me feel groggy.
Then I made myself some coffee (do you know how hard it is to make coffee without a coffee maker and not get coffee beans in the actual drink??). And guess what? Made me groggy.
So, I'm a groggy mess.
Found out I fail at jump roping. Which I kind of already knew.
It was fun. Until I tried jumping and the rope ended up between my toes.
J.P. and I have been saying odd things to each other because we're both not feeling too well which is messing with our brains.
So, I went out to eat yesterday for my brothers' (no, that's not a typo. My youngest brother and one of my older brothers share a birthday.) birthday.
It was a buffet.
I'm guessing I've been unknowingly starving while I've been sick.
Got horrid stomach pains that lasted until...well, I still have stomach pains they're just not as bad.
So I stayed home from school.
Again.
I haven't gone at all this week.
I've just felt sickly.
I wonder if I've lost weight.
All I've really been doing is sleeping.

You know what kind of bothers me?
When the thinspo sites I go to have a whole bunch of super seductive pictures and pictures of naked chicks.
I don't know why it bothers me.
Cause if the person in the picture is in their underwear, it doesn't bother me.
I guess I see the clothing as part of the beauty of it?

Maybe that's just me.

So, about my coffee.
I'm really proud of myself.
Being able to make it without a coffee maker makes me feel like I can have any kind of coffee I want whenever I want.
Which isn't true.
Because I still a microwave.
Then I got bored of just normal coffee. Because I had made mine too strong.
So I added the LAST lemon tea tea bag to my coffee grounds.
It was great.
I was shocked!
It was like a zing of lemon mixed in with the bitterness of the coffee.
I was like "WHY DON'T THEY ACTUALLY MAKE THIS!?"
Then I wanted peppermint coffee....but we don't have peppermint tea and I have zero money.

So, I really want a tattoo, but apparently it's illegal to give a minor one.
I'm only sixteen, so I fall into that age group.
I just want something simple.
I really want a bow on my wrist, but I know that would hurt like crazy.
And, even though I cut, I'm a wuss when it comes to pain.
Which makes zero sense to me.
I also wanna get my lip pierced, snake bites.
But J.P. doesn't like the thought of it.
And I don't want her to leave.
And I don't want to get them and then not like them.
I think that scares me the most.
The thought that I'll get them and then hate the look of them.

I'm almost 170.

I'm done with all this eating stuff. I think my mom kind of felt it coming off of me. That feeling.

Oh, I gave blood yesterday and got so nauseous I had to go home. I had a huge breakfast, loads of fluids, and a snack before giving and a snack after. But as I got up and wondered around, I go nauseous and stayed that way until I slept from one to five.

I should be working on homework.

But all that's running through my mind is, well, running.

And writing.

Not homework writing.

Writing for me.

Writing for writing.

These thoughts aren't really new to me.

Pampering myself before worrying about homework and school.

They're the reason I stayed home many times last year and the year before.

And the year before.

They're the reason I've cut before.

They're the reason I find myself on my floor, ten or twenty crunches later, panting and wondering if I can do ten or twenty more.

They're thoughts caused from not eating enough.

Or having enough calories, but having felt hungry too long. 

Feeling sickly and accomplished.

Having told two people all you want is a drink. 

I keep telling myself I need to take it easy today, eat right and be semi-ok.

Because my legs hurt from weightlifting yesterday, because I gave blood yesterday.

There's this part of me, though, that says "Those skinny jeans will never fit right if you don't, and those will never fit again if you don't. Neither will that top. Or any of those."

I have too many clothes from when I was tiny and basically none for the me now.

I have too many clothes for the girl I wanna be. Not the girl I am.

 

So, I have something to rant and rave about.

This guy that J.P. saw as a brother broke up with his baby mama because she was throwing crap at him.

Fair enough of a reason.

But then J.P. was trying to make sure he was ok.

And he starts hitting on her and saying that he thinks she likes him.

I was standing right next to her as he was texting this stuff to her. Right in front of me.

What? Are not "really" a couple because we're the same sex?

It was like seriously, hit on girls your age, not my seventeen year old girlfriend.

It's not her fault that she was worried about your mental health and you saw it as a chance to tell her you want to date her and think she wants you.

I texted his best friend and asked him to ask him to stop.

Apparently he did because the other guy was just like "What? I can't joke with my friend now?"

Yeah, yeah, at least try to seem like you're joking around.

I'm gonna lose weight this month.

I don't know how much because I don't have a scale. 

But I'm gonna get skinny.

I wanna look like that girl that my dad took a picture of about a year ago.

She was me. She was so different. And pretty. Kind of sickly looking, but she looked pretty.

How did I not see it when I was there?

Her cocky school picture, her smirk, like she knows more than I do.

Her black hair looked like it was a tad thinner than mine, but that may have been from her not knowing how to take care of hair that's dyed almost too much.

She's got the look of a demon, a trickster.

I know she's me, but it's so hard to believe.

Her hair's longer than mine. 

It's teased and her eyes are thickly lined with black. 

She has a look in her eyes that I pretend I don't know.

But I know it.

Hunger.

On the phone, she looks confused.

Why would anyone want her picture? 

Especially her dad who accuses her of being anorexic?

She looks almost too skinny.

Not that she ever saw it.

Why did I ever give that up?

She's the kind of pretty I had always dreamed of being.

She's the kind of girl that I always thought I would love to be, would love to at least know.

She looks like she could be famous.

Her black hair, black eyeliner, and black skinny jeans make me think that she's mysterious.

But I know that girl.

Or I used to.

She was medicated.

She typically felt alone and worried.

She never saw herself as pretty.

She never saw herself as thin.

She simply didn't believe it when her friends told her how pretty she had gotten.

She hated eating.

The doctors told her she had anxiety problems.

They said she used cutting as a coping mechanism.

When she walked through the halls she wondered if she looked ok.

She ran for thirty minutes using the wii, but never thought it was doing anything.

She was one hundred and twenty-eight pounds and still wanted to be less.

I know I shouldn't want to, but I want to be that girl.

She looks so small.

She looks so young.

She looks less than fifteen.

I miss her almost flat stomach.

I miss fitting into a size three.

I miss staying up late exercising and feel great.

I miss when eating felt like a game, and I didn't have to partake, but sometimes it just tasted and smelled too good and I allowed myself a couple bites.

I miss that feeling of caffeine on an empty stomach.

I miss feeling like a feather, even sometimes.

Ruby-tuesday that is easier said than done these days, and all I can promise is that I will try.

I am so sorry for posting about cutting realy bad and not keeping you guys updated.

I'm alright, by the way.
I didn't ever get stitches, and it's healing up very nicely.
I'm going to have a scar, yes.
A big one.
That I'll have trouble explaining.
Currently, I keep antibiotics and a bandage on it. No one asks about it, though I'm sure they all assume.
It was freeing.
To cut.
Not that deep.
Just to do it.
So lately I've been making those like "friendship bracelet" things.
I made myself and EDNOS one because...I'm tired of being fat, again.
I know, I just need to get over it.
Eat, exercise, sleep, homework, go to school, wake up somewhere in between sleeping and going to school, hang out with friends, be human, talk.
Only I don't want to eat or talk or hang out with anyone who doesn't understand and will let me enjoy my destruction.
I don't want to hang out with anyone who doesn't know what it feels like to not be able to slip too easily into threes, who doesn't understand why being dizzy and light-headed is a blessing, who complains when they're hungry rather than grinning to themselves, who doesn't get why gaining weight is a loss, even if they're still at a healthy weight.
My mind has been racing.
I haven't gotten enough sleep in so long because they doubled my lexapro.
Why couldn't the unhungriness stay around? Why couldn't it have gotten worse with the uppage of dose instead of getting better?
I've started drinking a lot of coffee. Coffee is like...amazing.
Good description.
I'm in a really good mood. Coffee and hunger's fault.
I have a chick-crush on this chick.

The one with the tie on.

Like I think she's so cute.
I wish I could look like that.

I wish I could have the attitude that seems to come off her, too.
I think J.P. and I would look so much more boss if I could look like that.
Oh! Speaking of J.P., I have the cutest picture of her on my phone. She's got my cousin's hamster in a little bowl thing and the smile on her face is to die for. The lighting is beautiful. I love it.
Yeah, we went four and half hours away from my house to see my cousins.
My mom got lost and even though we left at six in the evening, it took us until almost eleven the next day to get there.
Don't worry, about eleven at night we got a hotel room and went to sleep because my mom was almost asleep anyway.
Then after hanging out and seeing that my cousin is so much more artistic than I am, watching Madagascar three, finishing a bracelet, hanging out with a hamster, realizing that my aunt misses my older cousin who's in the army getting some training done, watching my younger cousin play Skyrim (I wanna play now!), we left to get supper with my older brother. I'm pretty sure his eating is disordered too.
We went to Denny's and the staff was all super nice even though the ones we interacted with were toward the end of their shifts so they were all really tired. I made the mistake of getting eggs and waffles.
On the way home I told J.P. how awful I felt.
Well, I didn't really tell her. I didn't feel like speaking at all.
I told her I felt gross, mentally and physically.
She promised we'd make time to exercise from now on.
I wonder if she hopes that will keep from not eating.
Oh for those of you wondering, I got an eighty percent one my second A.P. History test.
Which is a C at my school.
But it's better than most of the people in my A.P. class.
Made me feel boss.
Now, I'm going to attack you guys with pictures because I'm just in a picture kind of mood.
Not of me.
I'm too flubby.

Now, I'm going to go take a shower before I have to go get J.P. from work.

Thank you, Rachael, for all of the advice. I'm hoping nothing like this will happen again. It was very scary.

Cut really bad for the first time basically ever

Did you know bread knives are super sharp?
Cause I didn't think they would be.
I'm gonna have my mom look at it. She's a nurse.
I freaked out when I saw how much it was bleeding.
Then I forced myself to calm down.
Freaking out means not thinking clearly and the heart pumping faster.
Once I quit freaking out, I grabbed the shirt we used to keep my shirt safe when we dyed my hair purple yesterday. (Ok, I was still kinda freaking out)
Then I started looking up ways to make it quit online. It just wasn't stopping.
They suggested warm salt water and a using a tea bag.
I did both.
The salt water didn't seem to be helping.
The tea bag helped it finish quit.
J.P. is going to be freaking out.
I freaked out one of her friends by saying that I was dying (I thought I was). Then calmed him down when I said that it quit bleeding.
What kind of idiot cuts the back of their wrist?
Me. It probably saved my butt though. It looks really bad, but since it quit, I'd guess it's not too bad.
Now, I'm going to run to my car, grab my backpack so that when my mom wakes me up at eleven I won't have to do it then.
Then I'm going to bed.