Drunken nonsense.

Have you ever blacked out and felt yourself "getting out of" that blackout, only to get pissed off cus you know you won't be able to sleep?? Have you ever been constipated for days solely because you haven't had anything to drink? Have you ever forced yourself to drink just so you can avoid the awful withdrawals? If you answered "yes" to any of these questions, you might've been me in your past life.

I remember purging, but I don't remember what the fuck I ate and my wallet is completely empty. What the fuck. I ate more than 800 calories today.  800. eightfuckinghundred. i might as well have eaten a fucking cow. fuck you ed. fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. fatgrossdisgustinglardgelatinousepieceofshit.

I should know better. I've been in treatment, I've talked to countless therapists. I'm smarter than this... My mom deserves a better daughter, my brother deserves a better sister, the world deserves a better human being...

eightfuckinghundred. EIGHTHUNDRED. 800. morethaneighthundred... i ate more than 1 meal. 1 meal is 650kcal and i ate more than 150 more than that. fucking disgusting. weak. im fucking WEAK.

This is no way to live.. I'm killing myself.  I don't think I want to die.  I have goals, I have dreams... I want to carry out my goals and dreams, but the only way I can do that is if I'm healthy...and being healthy means gaining weight, and that scares the fuck out of me. I want to be OK. I want to be healthy, but I want to be thin. I want to be knocked unconscious until I'm all better...

It's 4:10am and I've sobered up. This is bad news.

I came across a draft that was meant to be posted like a year ago, but wasn't for some reason. But I'll post it here because it sums up how I'm feeling:

“I mean, if you were to find a shattered mirror, find all the pieces, all the shards and all the tiny chips, and have whatever skill and patience it took to put all that broken glass back together so that it was complete once again, the restored mirror would still be spiderwebbed with cracks, it would still be a useless glued version of its former self, which could show only fragmented reflections of anyone looking into it. Some things are beyond repair. And that was me.” 
― Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

I feel like an incorrigible infant who just cries and cries all day and night.  No one knows how to comfort her, no one knows what she needs.  She doesn't even know what she needs.  No amount of love or food will stop her deafening, vociferous cry.  She just cries and fucking cries until she cries herself to sleep and everybody is fed up.  

I feel like a crybaby.

Ever since my "weight restoration", I have been dreading my new, "healthy" body.  I've started smoking again, my ED behaviors have resurfaced, and the "clarity" that comes from nourishing the body has only made clear to me how much I miss my 85-pound-I-have-a-reason-for-having-AA-cups body.  Now I look at myself and am disgusted by the way my stomach sticks out, the way my thighs touch, the way my stomach makes my tits look even smaller, and the way my tits make my stomach look even bigger.  I feel like a fucked up optical illusion, and I am deeply ashamed of all this prissy talk.  For as long as I can remember, I've hated and never understood girls who were so vain and complained about their body.  But now, I've become the very type of person I hate and it's fucking embarrassing.  So gradually, yet so suddenly, I've become "that girl", but I've even taken that to an extreme.  I'm "that girl" with an eating disorder.