I really want to starve myself. I want to feel my skin stretched tight over my hipbones, see my ribs defined. I want my belly to go in instead of out, and I want a gaunt face and dead eyes and not to have to feel this any more.
I feel so sick. I ate so much that my stomach can't hold it. It was only dinner and dessert. I think puking up so much has really screwed up my stomach, I really should give it a rest for a while. I'm going to end up being unable to keep any food down otherwise. Though that could be good... No, that would just be messy. Imagine it, eating dinner, then standing up to leave and just throwing up spontaneously all over the table. I must stop eating, for God's sake. Then I won't puke so much, I'll loose weight, and everything will be just tickety-boo.
Friday 30 March 2007
I went on the rowing machine for an hour straight. I've never done that before. I rowed 10,000m. I know, it's pathetic really, but now I feel like Superwoman. And I ate some Spiderman pasta. So I AM A SUPERHERO! I'm going camping tomorrow with my brother and a bunch of people. We're going to get wasted in the woods. Fun, yeah? I really want to get completely trashed, because I'm fed up of reality.
My Dad is pissing me off. He's nosy, overbearing, immature and inflexible. We keep arguing, but he's always convinced he's right. I may as well keep screaming at a malevolent brick wall. I guess I just have to be adult and try and sort things out sensibly.
My Dad is pissing me off. He's nosy, overbearing, immature and inflexible. We keep arguing, but he's always convinced he's right. I may as well keep screaming at a malevolent brick wall. I guess I just have to be adult and try and sort things out sensibly.
Thursday 29 March 2007
Mental
I’ve been out of control lately. Its getting stupid. I took sleeping pills and a load of Prozac, just to knock myself out and make it go away for a while. I don’t like this whole recovery thing, but I think I will do it. I want to grow. I don’t want to be a cripple by the time I’m thirty, stuck in a girl’s body when I should be an adult. I have to move on. It’s just so fucking hard sometimes.
Secrets
And at last the secret is out. I never realised how much it was eating me up inside. I never believed I would lie so much, for so long, to my best friends in the world. I truly am dishonest. I just hope that they can forgive me
Wednesday 21 March 2007
Face
I cut my face. This is a new low/ A new concept. I'm so fucking sad today. I want to die. My head is fucking with me. I haven't eaten. I woke up in the middle of the night in a blind panic. Everything sucks major cock. Aaah, cock. Now theres one thing I'm getting none of.
Tuesday 13 March 2007
Sunday 11 March 2007
I'm Magic!
Yes... I stopped taking my meds. So I went high for two days. Magic. I know that I have the power to effect change in the world through force of will. But I will end up doing black magic, because I'm an evil person. I wished my own Daddy was dead today because he annoyed me. He was shouting. I tried to give him a heart attack. I wish I was dead. And I think I have something wrong with my heart (I am a bit hypochondriacal). I get pains in my chest now and am tired all the time. Then again, it could just be Clonazepam and exercise aches. I hope it's my heart and I'll have a heart attack and die. That would be only fair. I'm not high anymore. I didn't get dressed today even. I'm TIRED. Does nobody understand that? They all dragged me out of bed, the bastards. Threats, shouting, violence. Like they care whether I'm awake or not. They only want me to get back to normal. They think I'm all OK because I'm not thin any more. They found out I was throwing up again though, so now they stalk me. I leave the table, and they yell after me "Where are you going?" "Don't go to the bathroom!" It really really makes me want to puke my guts up. But I can't because they're spying on me all the time. I want to leave home.
Monday 5 March 2007
You are feeling sleepy...
I slept for six hours today, and ten hours last night. I was put on sleeping pills, you see, and they don't seem to like me. Or, they seem to like me far too much. Oh, the joys of medication.
Today I wanted to do a detox diet called the Master Cleanse. It involves drinking only a special type of lemonade for at least a week. Sounds mad, but I've done it before and it works. I think everyone should try it.
Lemonade recipe: 2tbsp dark organic maple syrup, juice of 1/2 lemon or lime, pinch of cayenne pepper/chilli powder, hot or cold water. Just mix it all up in a mug and drink. I think it tastes gorgeous, I really could live on the stuff. Which is just as well, because for 10 days you have to, to detox the body. You can also drink peppermint tea or laxative tea to purify the body. No food, no pills, no other drinks exept water. After the detox, gently ease back into eating fruit and vegetables, starting with broth and fruit juice. It clears up spots, and you lose the weight of excess water and waste built up in your body, as well as some fat.
Of course, I was not allowed to detox this time. Mum was dead against it. It really sucks being ex anorexic, as every time you try to change your eating habits everyone assumes you are about to starve youself to death.
My mum will not let me detox. She has food issues about what food I eat. I attempt something o better my health, and she immediately thinks that I'm about to starve myself to death. Brilliant. So instead, I've given up processed food. It's going to be hellish, because if you think about it, pretty much all food has been processed in some way.
Today I wanted to do a detox diet called the Master Cleanse. It involves drinking only a special type of lemonade for at least a week. Sounds mad, but I've done it before and it works. I think everyone should try it.
Lemonade recipe: 2tbsp dark organic maple syrup, juice of 1/2 lemon or lime, pinch of cayenne pepper/chilli powder, hot or cold water. Just mix it all up in a mug and drink. I think it tastes gorgeous, I really could live on the stuff. Which is just as well, because for 10 days you have to, to detox the body. You can also drink peppermint tea or laxative tea to purify the body. No food, no pills, no other drinks exept water. After the detox, gently ease back into eating fruit and vegetables, starting with broth and fruit juice. It clears up spots, and you lose the weight of excess water and waste built up in your body, as well as some fat.
Of course, I was not allowed to detox this time. Mum was dead against it. It really sucks being ex anorexic, as every time you try to change your eating habits everyone assumes you are about to starve youself to death.
My mum will not let me detox. She has food issues about what food I eat. I attempt something o better my health, and she immediately thinks that I'm about to starve myself to death. Brilliant. So instead, I've given up processed food. It's going to be hellish, because if you think about it, pretty much all food has been processed in some way.
Sunday 4 March 2007
Welcome
I'm sitting here, eating chocolate biscuits which I will shortly throw up again, and trying to think of a good way to start a blog. My identity must remain unknown, so I will not describe myself in too much detail. However, you need to be able to picture me. I'm a teenage girl, not fat not thin, with messy so-dark-brown-it's-nearly-black hair and brown eyes. I wear glasses, and my ears are pierced a few times. Like pretty much every stereotypical teenage girl, I think I'm hugely fat and abnormally hideous. Although I may have take my self disgust a bit further than is normal or sensible. I was diagnosed anorexic, though I think bulimarexic or just "fuckin' fat greedy bitch" is closer to the truth now that I've gained weight. I'm also diagnosed with a "depressive episode", which means I'm a right whiney cunt and this whole blog will be a tedious waste of time.
The title: This blog is named for my scars. I'm an unashamed self harmer, with hundreds of pink and white scars. Oh, and a grey one, a couple of purple ones and a brownish one, not to mention my cuts. I love them, as a recognition of the survival of my physical form. I have problems sometimes with accepting the fact that I have a physical form. Many days I believe I do not exist. Or am I a ghost? The concept of ghosts is currently obsessing me. Sanity. Because I don't believe in it at all.
I live in a small town, in the same house since I was a year old. I have both parents, and a brother two years younger than me. I was a quiet, clever kid, with a vivid imagination. I made best friends, but they always seemed to move away. Luckily now my best friends Lara and Marie live two roads and two towns away from me respectively. I never felt comfortable as myself. Like too many other people, I never felt like I belonged. Most of my childhood was spent playing at being somebody else, and somewhere along the line, I lost myself forever. I was never popular, often fell out with people, but usually there would be someone there for me to sit next to. And my mum sat with me when I cried myself to sleep. At nine, I cried with terror of the lonliness I knew was coming when my friends left. At eleven, the two most popular girls in my class were bullying me. At seventeen, drowning in utter disgust at my newly fat-covered body. My mum and my friends keep me here, although sometimes it's a close call.
The title: This blog is named for my scars. I'm an unashamed self harmer, with hundreds of pink and white scars. Oh, and a grey one, a couple of purple ones and a brownish one, not to mention my cuts. I love them, as a recognition of the survival of my physical form. I have problems sometimes with accepting the fact that I have a physical form. Many days I believe I do not exist. Or am I a ghost? The concept of ghosts is currently obsessing me. Sanity. Because I don't believe in it at all.
I live in a small town, in the same house since I was a year old. I have both parents, and a brother two years younger than me. I was a quiet, clever kid, with a vivid imagination. I made best friends, but they always seemed to move away. Luckily now my best friends Lara and Marie live two roads and two towns away from me respectively. I never felt comfortable as myself. Like too many other people, I never felt like I belonged. Most of my childhood was spent playing at being somebody else, and somewhere along the line, I lost myself forever. I was never popular, often fell out with people, but usually there would be someone there for me to sit next to. And my mum sat with me when I cried myself to sleep. At nine, I cried with terror of the lonliness I knew was coming when my friends left. At eleven, the two most popular girls in my class were bullying me. At seventeen, drowning in utter disgust at my newly fat-covered body. My mum and my friends keep me here, although sometimes it's a close call.
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