3 days to Fast

I know, I said I was gonna be healthy. It can wait three days. So to you who are gonna complain about me not keeping my word, backspace right now because here's my reply: Fuck. You. My life, my choice, you have no say. How I eat is how I eat and I'm set to do this.
Tomorrow, I'll probably start the day with PART of this energy drink. Then, Dad will get me another one at the end of the school day which I'll make last until the next day. See? I'm gonna get through this hyped up off low calorie (20 per can) energy drinks. I don't care if it's cheating. Considering I'm out of gum, it might be the only thing with flavor I have for three days. Well, other than water with its weird water flavor.
The more I think about it, the more the memory of how cig smoke smells comes to me. The more I wanna cry because I miss being at Grammy's and listening to the adults talk. The more I just wanna light up a cig and let it burn. Just for the smell. Like, I wanna start crying because I miss it soo much. I want a boyfriend who smokes just so when we hug, I inhale that smell and feel at peace. Grammy's was the only place where even though I felt a little awkward there, I felt at home and loved while J.P. and J.R. were together. My actual home held too many memories filled with J.P. (she even asked him out, over Myspace, at my house), so it couldn't feel like home. Not then, at least. At Grammy's, though, I have memories of things. Like my daddy smoking even though he never did at our house, my cousin watching Coraline on his laptop, Grammy telling us that she had taken away that laptop because he was failing classes, it's like...so many things happened and I've forgotten most of them and yet... I still feel homely there.
Sorry, that's my speal about...what was it? Cigarette smoke? Yeahh... Since I'm in such a weird mood today, here's some bad poetry (don't say otherwise, I know it's bad).
I'm sick of
kneeling on this floor,
allowing you to smash heels into my head,
forcing my face into the shattered glass,
my regrets,
and making me say sorry
for things I didn't do.

If you didn't torture me
I did,
denying myself food,
digging a razor into
this pale flesh,
staying up late crying.

But, even if you can't see,
I'm back
with a FUCK YOU
attitude
because being told by my
EX-girlfriend who dumped me for a chance with her
Wiccan EX-boyfriend
that I needed to get closer to God
didn't make any sense.

It's my life,
my way to live it,
so Fuck you,
here's to me.

Wow, that's my whole story basically summed up. I'm sick of saying sorry. I've said sorry for ever. Sorry for things I didn't do, things I did ages ago that no one can let co, things I didn't do. I'm only saying sorry when I realize that I've done something wrong, other than that whoever wants an apology can get over it. I am me, I will do what I want, I will be happy with myself or set out to change what I am unhappy with. No, I don't expect it be easy or glamorous. I don't expect myself to not fall. I will, many many times. But if I get up again, it really does not matter how much I fall. Like Rachael said, the world can't touch me.
Now, I'm gonna go work my stummy out and then go to bed.