they're taking me to parts of my mind, that no one could find.

Has it really been three years since the last time I posted something on this blog? Three miserable fucking years. You know...Yesterday I was sat here thinking about things and all of a sudden my mind went back to where it used to be. The thoughts came running so fast like they've just been waiting for the perfect moment. It's sad to think that it only takes one moment of weakness to fall back into old habits.

Nothing has changed.

“You will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again.”

I never thought I would come back to this blog again, it's almost been a year since the last post.

Recovered and relapsed once again.

I'm back.

STARVE MY PAIN AWAY, MAKE ME BEAUTIFUL, MAKE EVERYTHING OKAY, TURN MY PROBLEMS INTO BONE, CRUSH THEM UP, GATHER THE REMAINS, BLOW AWAY THE DUST.

I'm not going to eat anything tomorrow, the only thing that is allowed is water and green tea. Since i haven't learned to drink coffee without gagging like a bitch. My work schedule is set and I'm so motivated, I think. 

This time i am going to succeed, I don't want to look myself in the mirror and see loads of fat covering my bones, I'm a skinny person trapped in a fatsuit. Once and for all i'm going to get rid of every single pound of fat.  I am gonna become the skinny one. I just binged & purged actually, so feeling a wee bit weak and my heart hurts a lot. My stomach feels like a freaking balloon and i just want to cut myself so deep to get rid of the anxiety running around in my blood. 

im at war with the body i’ve been given, guns blarin’ but nobody’s winnin

Don't know what to do with myself anymore. Everything is going wrong.

If I'm louder, would you see me? Would you lay down in my arms and rescue me?

 I thrive on that numb, trembling, frail feeling I get after puking till it feels like my internal organs are going to emerge. It sounds sick, but that weakness after makes me feel clean and empty again, like I got all the poison out of me. 

I fucking need you right now okay?

"Look, when you love someone — it’s worth fighting for no matter what the odds."

sometimes i find it interesting listening to all the voices i hear. i like it how they sound like real people, then it can change and they sound a bit distorted, a bit like a robot, a whisper, a cry. sometimes i don’t mind spending time trying to figure out what they’re saying if there’s too many for me to understand. sometimes it can be calming and relaxing. sometimes it makes me smile because i find it so strange. now thinking about it, it is quite strange. how do all these voices that i’ve never heard before become regular visitors to me? it’s quite odd indeed. 

“I guess that’s where this story begins. And here’s where it ends."

I just binged and threw up. Thought my tummy was gonna explode after all that huge amount of food. And now I feel like shit. Fuck this. I dont wanna live like this anymore. fuck fuck fuck fuck this.

I'm so so sorry i let you down, can't be easy trynna help me when all I do is letting you down? I don't deserve you, I don't deserve having a friend like you. Not at all. Even though you promised me you won't leave me, I don't believe you. Im so sure that you'll give up on me like everyone else and forget about me. I never should've told you about my eating disorder, never ever. I'm so sorry. And I know you're probably not reading this but just wanted to say this.

I love you. I'm so lucky to have you as a friend. Thank you for everything you've done for me, it means alot. Don't forget that.

and just like that my life is broken, I can barely breathe and now i'm opened for suggestions

i don’t know what i’m doing. i don’t know why i’m still here. i feel so shit. everything’s falling apart again and there’s nothing i can do to stop it. i wish i could make things change, but i can’t and i hate it so much. 

this is what a REAL binge is like...

One cookie is not a binge.
One cupcake is not a binge.
Two or three pieces of cake is not even a binge.

A binge is when you stuff cereal down your throat just because you NEED something to eat that you can get down in huge quantities FAST FASTER FASTEST, as if this was a race where anything but first place will lead to the realization of all your worst nightmares. (Except the binge itself, of course. That's a nightmare all its own.)

A binge is when you eat until your stomach is distended, and the skin stretches so you can see ribs you couldn't see before you started your gluttony; when you eat until your whole abdomen, your whole torso, hurts; when you can't even straighten up because if you did the pressure in your guts would be too unbearable; when you can feel the liquids and food trying to shove their way back up your esophagus because you can't fit it all in; when even all this sometimes isn't enough to stop you. You just need one more bite... no, two more... threefourfiveten...

A binge is when you ravage close-to-empty cupboards frantically, looking for anything to shove in your face, even stuff like brown sugar from the bag, or full-fat peanut butter in huge tablespoons straight from the jar, or some hideous peanut-butter-Quik-syrup-brown-sugar-artificial-vanilla thing that you mixed way the hell up with the biggest spoon you could find and are just eating because it's so high calorie and disgusting.

A binge is when you eat things you don't even WANT, don't even LIKE, because you NEED to be terribly, hideously full so bad.

A binge is when you eat even though you don't even REMOTELY want to eat, because your biology screams "MORE MORE MORE" and you scream "NO NO NO" and it just happens anyway and you can't even begin to stop it.

So fuck you and your one-cookie binges.
You haven't got a fucking clue. 

If it tastes good, It's trying to kill you.

22:30 pm: i just feel so stupid and pathetic sitting here wanting to kill myself so badly. but i can’t. i didn’t choose to be alive and now i can’t choose to die. how unfair this world is. i know my problems are nothing and that i should be grateful for everything i have. but i wish i could give it all away to others who would appreciate much more than i do because i don’t want it. i don’t want to be alive. why can’t we just choose to die in our sleep and then continue on into another life, and keep the cycle going until we are satisfied? i just don’t want my life to be like this anymore, but i’m stuck with it and i fucking hate it so much. i don’t know what to do. i’m sorry.


23:30pm: i could never tell anyone to kill themselves, but i kind of hope you do, to end all the suffering you’ve put me through.

Nothing. Nothing is wrong, and asking is against the rules. Crying is against the rules. You're strong; don't let them break you. They're trying to destroy you.

Every night, before I sleep, I tell my body I am sorry. I am sorry for the years of starving, over exercising, laxatives, diet pills, not enough sleep, cutting, binging, throwing up… I beg for forgiveness because I fear it might be too late. Yet, I can’t stop. 

What's wrong with me?

If I skip my dinner, make myself pretty and thinner, maybe then you'll love me.

I used to be happy with myself, one little moment can trigger a lifetime of self hatred. 

just leave me alone....

must go to sleep before hallucinations get worse again
fuck fuckkityy fuck fuck fuck asdfgklaksdjajsjjdkaf
no no no no no no no no no
i feel my head burning fuck it’s too late
i just want to scream
i’m going to hide under my blanket now
i can’t do this again
just make them stop
please just make them fucking stop hurting me
make them stop make them stop make them stopajejsjekakkdp 

“I painted it black. I know how you don’t like normal things.”

things i will never be:

• pretty
• beautiful
• gorgeous
• stunning
• skinny
• amazing
• smart
• sexy
• cute
• happy
• wanted
• loved

and it hurts knowing this.  cuz it's fucking true. right now i just want to binge and throw it all up but i've brushed my teeth so i can't. which i guess is both a good and a bad thing. in a twisted way. all  i want is to be skinny so i don't have to worry about gaining weight all the time, counting calories, working out like a fucking mental person till i pass out, not eating over 500 calories a day, throwing up all the time, binging. fuck my life.

i just want to be perfect, is that too much to ask for?

and she's not eating again.

My heart is hurting more than usual, im a bit afraid of whatever might be going on in my body mostly because if it even gets serious i wouldnt be able to get proper medical attention. Im scared of the repercussions of my own self destructive habits yet i cannot simply stop. 

they call it fall for a reason...

Jag ska falla. Min vikt ska falla.  Jag bryr mig inte om jag faller med.
Detta är hösten då jag blir smal. Kanske sakta. Men jag ska nå dit. Jag ska bli tjejen som lyckades.
Nu jävlar ska jag lyckas.
Jag har ett nytt liv.
Jag ska plugga som aldrig förr.

anorexia eller bulimi?

Jag har suttit och filosoferat en liten stund över vad jag helst skulle ha,anorexia eller bulimi. Villkoren är att du väger exakt lika mycket vad du än väljer. Jag skulle nog välja anorexi, känslan av kontroll är helt oslagbar. Men så har vi baksidan med yrsel och känsla av hopplöshet. Skulle jag välja bulimi är det för känslan efter att ha kräkts och att ibland kunna släppa kontrollen, men så känner man sig alltid misslyckad. Men jag väljer nog ana ändå. 

fuck this

åt köttfärssås med pasta för en stund sedan, HATAR DENNA JÄVLA KÄNSLAN, ATT KÄNNA SIG MÄTT. Kan inte göra något åt det heller bara för att jag är sjuk.

in;

1 glas blåbärssoppa

1/3 pasta & köttfärssås

1 macka.

ut;

inget.

JAG VILL SPY NU.

dö lite smått

Jag vet inte vad jag ska ta mig till.

Andningen börjar bli tyngre, gråten försöker jag stå emot.

Jag känner sakta att jag påbörjar en panikattack.

Slå handen i spegeln?

Rakbladen ligger jämte mig och de lockar något fruktansvärt.

Jag vill se blodiga höfter.

Men vart ska jag skära?

I gamla ärr?

Jag vill inte sjunka till den nivån.

Jag vet att jag kan vara starkare.

Dock vet jag inte om jag orkar bry mig.

Eller om jag ens vill vara stark.

Jag förtjänar att ha ont.

Må dålig, sämre, sämst.

Jag vill ringa någon.

Jag vet inte vem.

Jag vill inte visa mig såhär.

Jag vill inte vara sådan här egentligen.

Jag trodde jag var på bättringsvägen,

eller nja men bättre än innan.

Jag måste försvinna, låta mig dö lite smått.

Tvinga mig själv att de enda som gäller är skinn och ben.

Jag måste bara kunna stå på benen, mer behövs inte.

Vatten räcker.

Allt annat är äcklig.

Fattar inte varför jag äter.

Tjockis.

Jag fattar inte varför jag har så svårt.

Det har varit så lätt tidigare.

Jag måste komma tillbaka.

Jag kan inte vara såhär.

Jag måste visa mig bäst.

Få höra kommentarerna igen.

Fast värre denna gången.

Kanske till och med för mycket.

Få andra att bli så oroliga att de tror jag ska dö snart.

Jag vill, jag ska, jag kan.

Så svårt är de inte.

Jag har kommit långt innan.

Jag ska bara komma längre igen.Peppa mig.

the beginning

Jag hatar att blogga, jag har alltid hatat det. Men ibland finns det saker som man inte kan säga till folk för att man skäms, eller att man är rädd, och ja ni fattar.. alla dom sakerna ska jag skriva här, genom att vara anonym. Jag håller på att spricka, explodera av sånt som jag inte kan berätta. Jag hoppas att genom att skriva här, kommer det att hjälpa mig lite. Jag behöver inte medlidande eller något, jag vill bara att folk ska förstå.
Det skulle vara bra med läsare (vilket jag inte tror att jag kommer få så många av) men bloggen är till för mig själv.. om min ätstörning, det som jag aldrig vågar prata med människor om. Jag pratar med mig själv ibland, tänker att det är någon som lyssnar och förstår, som sitter rakt framför mig och bara lyssnar, lyssnar och lyssnar. Känner mig lättad för en stund.
Vill skära bort ångesten som om det vore fett i kroppen.