full disclosure:

triggering, so only click if youre not disorder

i don’t know if this is all in my head, but….

i feel fucking massive. I don’t know why but I feel so fat, I feel like my legs, my thighs have just swollen to insane proportions. I feel like i have rolls upon rolls of fat on my stomach. I feel like I’ve grown some mysterious layer of fucking flab over my belly, over my beautiful hipbones.

Now, I’ve been restricting much, much more than I did in the past month or so. My half-assed attempt at recovery quickly lapsed into “how quickly can I get down to 90 without ending up in the hospital?” I meant it, too. Too much pot, not enough food, and a lack of accountability mixed with a healthy dose of annoyance from my doctors that ended in a mysterious desire for emptiness. I wanted something to do. And, that was my activity of choice. My way of doing something distracting from the pain of losing Tim, of moving away from my friends, from facing the impending adulthood. My life is about to quickly, and radically change. I do not want to feel sad. So I numb this shit with drugs and weight loss.

So, the fact that I feel fucking HUGE is beyond me. I WAS 93 two weeks ago, and the past two days I’ve been at like fucking 96. Unacceptable. I know it’s gotta be retaining water and not waiting enough time without food or water before weighing myself that is the culprit. I’ve been eating nothing over 600 every fucking day. There’s no way I gained, and what the fuck my thighs are disgusting.

I’m high right now, and overly honest, so I’m probably going to look back at this and see how creepy and disordered it is.

I’m so scared about relapsing.

I’m still thinking about inpatient over the summer.

but then I remember that I might not be ready to give up that kind of control. I DO NOT WANT to go in there and have someone force fucking feed me. I will not let them make me gain like 30 lbs. I’d be reasonable and get up to 105, but don’t push me. And, I’m afraid they would.

I forgot to eat again tonight.

I wish I wasn’t such a hopeless case.

I’ve just been informed that I’ve got the fucking anorexic hair. I have the fucking fur.




i told my mom I want to look into treatment over the summer.

 I cant maintain. I cant stop restricting. No one is watching me. All my friends are worried. I’m scared to death of my heart literally stopping.

I’m so so scared, and I just want to live.


homeworks, then hangouts with franns.

Told my best friend I’m relapsing. No one is saying anything. I weigh 93 pounds, I am having moments of various levels of terror about dying. Then, I’m apathetic. Words of encouragement to continue recovery would be helpful.

moving right along,

last night I went to a cemetery called “Hell’s Gate” in the middle of nowhere, Kentucky.

All I saw were some really beautiful stars and super old gravestones. wonderful time all around :)

help with encouragement?

Skipped therapy.

I’m not in the mood to talk about my feelings. The only time I feel sad is when I get high and think about happier times, but thankfully, since I’m easily distracted while high, I forget about it quickly.

I’m struggling to hit 500. oh. fucking. well.


and lying to doctors. not eating when I don’t feel like it, ie all the time. crying a lot. fucking a boy i don’t love. smoking pot every single moment I can get away with it. smoking 3 packs of cigarettes in one week. thinking about restricting. thinking who am I fucking kidding here? this disease is going to destroy me.

i unwrapped all my candy. broke it into tiny pieces. threw it in the trash. and really, really relished in throwing away all the sugar, fat, and calories.

felt superior that I could do it.even though I know it would have taken a lot more courage and effort to actually eat it or keep it around.

I am fucked.

and my grandparents are SO fucking annoying for triggering the shit out of me with that bullshit.