bleed & purge it out.

i'm fucking sick and bleeding. the cuts on my wrist are my salvation. they all thought i was recovered, but seeing the number on the scale i shouldn't have stepped on ruined me. i'm back, ana and mia. i missed you. please kill me.

i had a drug trip in which i though my essence, my soul, was trapped within my self conscious - the part of the brain we don't actively use.  it hurt, but it was wild, insane.  i loved it, even though pat thought i was freaking out. it was simply transcendent.

since y last post i'd tried recovery and failed. i want ana and mia back. i feel like i have them. yesterday was 650 calories and today was under 800 but all liquid. tomorrow i restrict and purge.

i'm a failure

cutting & purging.

i used to not feel like a real cutter because i only cut on the top of my arm. i have many, many layers of cuts on the top of my left forearm; it's my favorite place. yet even though i felt like a fake, i did it anyway and it worked. i once got so desperate for blood that i took the razor out of a new pencil sharpener.

when i was really psychotic, the voices in my head told me to tell mom all of my secrets, so i did, and i told her about the cutting. from then on, cutting never really held the same charm for me. i had to slice more and slice deeper for anything to really work - to feel that calm as the blood bubbled up and the razor dropped. so i quit, for my mother's benefit. i have said time and time again that i'm not cutting anymore, even though i am.

and that brings us to now. i have a boyfriend and a family and friends who hate the sight of my scarred arms. i have a hatred for my body and myself. i hate myself so fucking much and i deserve this misery, this torture, this hell.

i used to be scared of cutting my wrist. used to be.

blinded in chains.

thanks for the birthday wishes, guys! i ate, didn't purge, drank. it threw me a bit off track, but i'm back in the game now. i weighed yesterday and i didn't really like what i saw. my friend said, when i told her i was scared to weigh, "at best you'll be surprised and at worst you'll be motivated". i'm both surprised and motivated; i thought i'd be well into the 135-145 range. i'm like 128, which is really gross, but i'm going to get far away from that number! i'm actually really ashamed to post that weight, but... blegh. i'll be motivated to come back and say i'm lower.

i feel... okay. mood wise. bored and tired and cold, but i'm not at the point where i want to die, anymore. i hope you're all okay, at the least.

my birthday.

yeah, it's my birthday today.

i plan on fasting. because what's better than losing weight for one's birthday?

or if i can't get out of my birthday dinner later with my boyfriend, then i'll purge or just eat a little. i just ran for half an hour and accidentally puked up my diet pills. 

haha. today's off to a great start.

but no, really, it is. i've gotten tons of happy birthday wishes, both from family, friends, and my tumblr buddies. i feel pretty good today.

i miss you so fucking much

and it hurts that we can't see each other. i'm beyond elated that you're getting better, and i'll pray it stays that way. i love you, too. please stay strong. my happiness is contingent on yours.

i'm in a bad place right now. i can't stop shaking or crying and my razors are all dirty, i can't use them. am i moving? i feel like i am. moving but not going anywhere. i wrote something weird and psychotic the other day.

someone on tumblr asked me if i was a guy or a girl. it was the last thing i needed and i started to cry. bad. hyperventilating. the gender dysphoria has only gotten worse...

i didn't eat yesterday, and so far i've only had an apple. a tumblr friend of mine and i decided we're going to start restricting hard again. it's not really good but i feel like i need to. i wish i was ready to recover but i'm just... not.

TRIGGERED.

i was sitting on my ass, scrolling through my tumblr dash. thinking about maybe going downstairs and eating, or b/ping.

then i saw this picture of the peppers on my dash:

uh.

can i look like them, please? masculine and thin and muscular?

i'd be completely fine with looking like john frusciante.