Tuesday, May 28, 2013

The number of followers

I have 69 followers. Tee Hee. I'm so immature.

So since my last post my weight has dropped a whopping, drum roll please... 0.2 pounds. I've just been doing such a fantastic job that (if you're squeamish or are triggered to self harm easily I'd suggest you stop reading) I made three perfect little lines into my hipbones, or at least where my hipbones should be. I'm a scientist, digging for bones, trying to find the forgotten secrets of what it felt like when I used to be happy. I took the un-molded lump of clay that is my body and carved myself a new future. 115. 1-1-5. Right there for me to see whenever I look down. Right there to feel every time the waistband of my pants gets too tight and digs in. Right there to open up again and again every time I fail.

There used to be a person who cared about the scars on my body. Before that there was someone who cared about the scars inside my body. I pushed both of them away. Because that's what I do. That's as much a part of me as the three precise rust colored marks of shame I secretly love to reopen. 

The only thing that I seem to love is causing myself pain. 

Tuesday, May 07, 2013


I'm back, again. I apologise for disappearing, again.

School is finally finished for they year, I have one pesky summer course that I have to take though, but other than that summer will be work, work, work. I checked my weight today and I was 151.2. Which is terrible. It needs to go down.

Breakfast: silhouette Greek yogurt (50), 1% milk in tea (28)=78
Lunch: 100g strawberries (32), 100g green grapes (69), 100g seaweed salad (106=207
Dinner: 100g broccoli (35), 1 tbsp condensed mushroom soup (6), 1 vegetarian scaloppine (180)=221
Total: 506

I think that's pretty good for a first day back. My body craves bread. I think that the lack of chips is putting me into the same with drawl that a heroin addict suffers from. I want to tear off my skin. Over dramatic, I know.

Updates on my life. My dad threatened to hit me again. What else is new. I wish he would just do it so then I could go to the cops. My mom says he doesn't really mean it. Does that matter? Should it matter? Shouldn't the the words be enough for her to see how he torments me? I won't let anyone bully me anymore. Speaking of bullies, that guy I mentioned before. Done. He was so controlling. He told me what to wear and what to eat and who to be friends with and who I could and couldn't sit with in class. When he got fall down drunk and called me a bitch in front of his friends and pinched me so hard under the table that it left bruises and tried to put his hand up my skirt in front of his friends mom I knew, I drove him home, tried to cry and ended up yawning instead, got properly drunk with my own friends, waited four days and dumped him. He still calls and texts and I would screen his calls except that I can't afford caller ID. He calls me "babe" and tells me that things will work out and that he hasn't felt this way about a girl before. I am NOT his "babe". I won't be.

This summer I will go to the public beach. That is my goal. I will go with my stick figure friends and I will not stick out. I will blend in, my bones will be my camouflage.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Like I Loved you Yesterday

I hate being stuck in the past. I see ghosts of what was and what could have been layered over the reality that I can't force myself to accept. The layers of reality and illusion are blurring and I'm afraid that I'm losing sight of what is true.

I look around me and everyone else is happy, I wish I was happy. I can remember the last time I was happy. Truly happy. I remember that exact moment, and I remember the exact moment that happiness was shattered. I remember where I was, what I was wearing, what I was doing, and most importantly of all who I was with. 

How do you differentiate between being in love with who you thinkhopedreamwish a person has become and the person who they used to be, while you're terrified of who they might have become? How do you know If it was love or if you just wish that it was love and want to believe that it still is love so you can tell yourself that you're not as heartless as you wish you were? 

Is it wrong to want something that I threw away? I want it so badly it hurts and my skin crawls and my eyes burn and my heart leaps into my throat and I can feel it beat so fast and hard I think it might explode and I want to crawl into my own skin and hide so that I never have to feel this way ever again. I threw away something so precious and beautiful because I was terrified of it, and now I want it back and I don't know how to get it back, I know that I don't deserve to get it back. I didn't deserve to have it in the first place. 

I don't know if any of what I'm feeling right now is real or if it's just a phase. I hope it's a phase because I would give anything to make these feelings go away.

But at the same time I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. These feelings mean that I'm alive. 


ruby-tuesday: Thanks, at this point I don't even know if it's the flu or just old fashioned stupidity. But the hot water helps.

Outdoor Junkie: Being a girl does suck, sometimes I wonder how different my life would be if I had been born with a penis. I love that you said little one. It makes me feel like I have that potential, to be little in size. And it makes me feel like I am small, like in the grand scheme of things, and that maybe my problems aren't the be all and end all. 

Thank you everyone, and sorry for the weirdly philosophical, questioning, and rambling post.