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. 

Back

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.