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
