I used to hope for the impossible

I used to want to be a model.
I used to have more belief that I could be an author.
I used to believe that I could be happy and thin.
I used to think that I would never have to work to get good grades.
I used to think I would be rich one day, somehow.
I used to think I wanted children because they're such a new addition to life.
I used to believe that I wanted to grow up.
I never once thought that even if I gained the weight back I'd be unhappy and have thoughts of being not pretty because I'm not thin.
I never once believed that my personality would be affected by not eating.
I never thought that once I started eating again, the damage wouldn't go away.
I never believed that I would ever consider purging. And then I tried to at least twice.
I never thought I'd scare the person I love by freaking out over eating.
I never thought that I'd not notice gaining weight.
I never thought that I would think of weight loss as freedom.

All of these have changed.
I found out I'm too fat/short to model.
I wonder continuously if I'll ever bother to actually stick with something and finish it and get it published.
I know now that with how my mind works, I want something and I want it ASAP which makes losing weight the "right" way too hard. So I can't be thin and happy.
I'm almost failing one of my classes just because I don't want to put out the effort.
I actually wish I could quit growing up or even go back to when I was younger. I'm not quite ready to face the real world yet.
Everyday, I think about how fat I let myself get and how great it was to be 128 and to be able to say that I was 128.
I don't want kids. I'm scared that they'll get the same mentality that I have.
J.P. gets to deal with me freaking out almost everyday about whether or not to eat. My breathing gets really quick, tears fill my eyes.
I used to see losing weight as freedom. Freedom from my dad calling me fat, freedom from all the perverted eyes staring and watching, freedom from being me because I always think of myself being fat.

I was going to go back and reread parts of my blog. I don't know if I could handle it, knowing that I'm only fifteen, fourteen, and even thirteen in some of the posts. Knowing that I was so young, I should have been focusing on happier things. Not when I was going to not eat, not when I was going to see my therapist, not when I was fasting. I don't understand how all this happened, though. I've been fascinated with eating disorders since grade school, but always believed I would never get one. I've been called fat since I was eight-ish, but always thought that I had enough support from friends to keep me from feeling fat. I never thought I would be one of those girls who starved and cut. I never thought that it would hurt so much, either.