True, I'm back. And no, I never forgot about this blog. I've always wanted to come back to it and write something but I've been too ashamed to even post an entry in an annoymous blog. Ridiculous right?!
Well, I'm back, and I'm now carrying shame by the bucketloads. And pounds. Pounds and pounds and pounds. Sp physically I'm better. Much better.
Too much better.
Yet my mind has never felt more fucked.
I just eat and eat and, well you get the idea. Honestly I'm fucked, I can't remember the last time I ever weighed this much. And I hate it. And I hate myself for letting eveything go. In the past month I have learnt what it truly is to be disgusted with oneself. And what it truly means to binge. God, to think I thought I was binging before, that was just stupid anoretic thoughts.
Well I suppose these are all stupid anoretic thoughts. But some sit more easily with me.
I am full sure that I am walking away from my treatment. I'm done. I don't want it. I shouldn't waste their time and resources. I am not going to sit in a room with deathly thin people and whine about how fat I feel. And then tell me that I'm normal. Fuck normal, I don't want to look normal. I want to look how I feel I am. And I'm certainly not going to sit through the bullshit of them telling me it's just my body in starvation mode and that's why I'm eating so much. Because I am clearly not starving anymore. Oh no, trust me, I am not exaggerating the point, twenty pounds is an estimate. I'm not entirely sure; I smashed up my scales out of sheer frustration.
And it's so vile to see how the excess flesh just appears, my neck bones have disappeared, as have my wrists. I constantly feel my fingers are bigger, the space between my legs is practically gone, my arms, oh god my arms. No clean lines. All lost in this horrible loose excess.
Now I could write a book about how I've been this past while. But it bores even me at this stage. If I'd just admitted myself when they offered it to me I'm sure I wouldn't have gained as much as I have on my own.
I have no standards. No rules. No control. I let everything go.
And it stops. I don't want treatment. I don't want to continue. I want to stop induging in all that I hate. Surely, surely I can stop - because I want to stop. Why must I binge everyday when I hate it?
I refuse to be what I was. Please let me find the strength. Please. Please. I'm fucking desperate. I don't want to be better. I don't want to fail. I want this to be a phase. I won't let them see me fail, let them me see indulge in such disgusting acts. Everyone thinks I'm ok now. They don't matter anymore. I hate this. I'm the one who has to cop on, get a grip, and get back to me. Because right now that 'me' is lost. Lost under layers of horrible mass.
Everyday I tell myself I'll stop, and everyday I find a way to binge even more than before. So once more, I'm saying that when I wake up I'm going to stop. Will I have enough strength of mind to actually get over this hurdle.
It's never been clearer in my mind. I want back. I can't keep going like this, I'm afraid where I'll end up.