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.

please don't strip my mind.

more red hot chili peppers and john frusciante. its really all that's been coming out of my speakers lately.

mom and i had a brief talk today. she was getting ready for work, and came in to ask about my dishes. i had a sandwich in my hand.

"can i ask you a question?" the pause was just a breath, i didn't have the time to answer. she continued, "how's your eating?"

"erratic."

"are you purging?"

"yup." it came out of my mouth like a challenge. something foul and angry, like my eating disorder itself said it and was daring my poor, sweet mother to do something about it.

"do you still want to go to treatment?"

"no." this came out like a scoff. pfft. recovery? i laugh at the very idea.

"come to me when you're ready." she said, and wiped at her eyes. i could feel the weight of her words. they chained my eyes down to the floor, where i couldn't meet hers.

"okay."

"i don't want you to suffer like i did these past twenty-something years," she said.

i feel like the worst son ever.

i used to be scared. really scared of purging everything i eat. but now the torture is welcome. let the acid shred my throat and mouth. let my sharp finger nails slice the soft pink flesh. let everything pour out of me and spin away, miles and miles underground. i don't want anything inside.

drugs.

ive been spending a lot of time reading scar tissue by anthony kiedis, the lead singer of red hot chili peppers. i got all their music. and i got all of john frusciante's solo stuff. i can't get over his album, "shadows collide with people". it's so mellow at times, but really jammy and upbeat in others. fuck. i love this man.

however, when i was reading scar tissue, quite a bit of it focused on his drug addictions. i never really realized how similar drug addictions are to eating disorders. it's more of a general sense, i think. anthony was routinely triggered into going on benders by break ups. this might just be the strange little faggot-fan in me, but i do feel a sort of kinship with him and john, 'cause they both had demons that were hard to shake.

anthony said wrote, in this one part, about how he was in group therapy or something at rehab. the person who was speaking said, statistically, that only one person out of all the people that were in that room (i think there were forty or so?) would stick with recovery from their addictions. anthony wrote, that he was determined to be that one person.

yet time and time again, he used.

it's a strange comparison, because eating disorders are, i think, about deprivation - generally speaking - while drug addicts seek out their vice. but the things he wrote just struck me, i guess.

hm.

that's it, i suppose. go check out "this cold" by john frusciante. the vocal melodies tug at my heart strings in an incredible way.