Blurty for Lenora.
|Thursday, February 24th, 2005|
I had appointments for things I loved, I missed them.
Because I was paralyzed in my bed.
I went through my cd's and I put on "Champange Supernova" by Oaisis and I concluded that if I ever were to commit suicide, that I would want to do it to that song.
Because it is perfect and happy-tragic and reminds me of my mother.
It's all relative.
It's like this loaf of bread.
This slice is for how much I hate myself.
This one is for how much I need/hate my mother.
This one is for how weak I am and how I let people hurt me and I never say anything.
This one is for admitting it is that way because I deserve it.
I face it head-on as I stuff it in my face, gulp it down right before it chokes me,
too much, not enough.
So full, when all I want is to be hungry.
Never full enough to be NUMB.
And numb is never numb enough.
It's all so artificial.
I'm trying to cement some kind of evil hole that I am terrified of.
But I can't.
Worthless, gross and desperate.
Make the walk of shame to the bathroom again, for the millionth time of your life.
Drain yourself of the poisen.
Demean yourself with such disgusting compensation.
Out comes the evil.
I will never learn.
|Friday, February 4th, 2005|
I went to a Quizno's for the first time today, (Yeah I know, do I live under a rock..) and they have the most amazing gigantic m&m cookies...380cals each. Maaaaan..
I was dragged there with my parents so they could get dinner, wouldve looked unacceptable to buy any. Case in point I was incredibly dissapointed, BAH!
I'm in start-collecting-tons-of-binge-food-and-count-down-the-days-mode.
I'll have the house to myself Monday afternoon & night.
And suspicsiously conveiniently, Sunday is grocery day..
If I'm b/p free until Monday I can go wild, if I slip up and be stupid, access denied.
And CAN she do it...
We shall see.
|Thursday, January 27th, 2005|
Wowowowow does it.
|Wednesday, January 26th, 2005|
If I can make it until Sunday, keeping down 1,000cals a day + supplements until then, I can have the most insane, delicious b/p ever Sunday night when my parents go out.
I do not know if there is any logic in that.
But my gag reflex is deader than dead and I was a bit too hard on my throat last night.
I wish I didn't want to do it so bad that I have to have a schedual for it and all, I wish I didn't spend so much time planning it.
But I've got peanut butter toast crunch! :(
But MY MOTHER is coming over today, so God knows...how FUCKING conveinient that she always seems to drop by when I'm praying I wont b/p that day. Or cut. Or whatever.
Prediction: She's gonna piss me off, we are gonna fight, I'm going to end up crying and trying to explain the ed thing. It's NEVER going to make sense to her. Why do I try?
This entry sounds very immature to me..but I'm frusterated and there is TOO much to say.
It'll all go away Sunday night though.
God will it.
|Tuesday, January 25th, 2005|
I'm becoming very much hands-free..
Please God, don't let me.
That will be scary as Hell.
I also just realized that my arrow keys are sticking because they have dried ketchup in them.
And some oatmeal.
Whatever I like the mouse better anyways.
*edit like a half hour later*: Oh yeah and there's more calories in a damn apple than that!
Still have not weighed myself, still cannot do it.
I'll do it when I feel less gross.
It's odd, going from anorexia to bulimia over this past year, it's created this fuck-all attitude.
Maybe I can't deal with it, so I'm dissattaching from it.
I don't even count the calories of what I'm keeping down, which, actually, seems more effective in the area of weightloss anyways.
So all that time I was doing this all wrong huh? (*sarcasm*)..
Today is a weird weird body day. I have to go by my actual body now since I don't know the numbers, not sure if I like this yet.
Well, my arms are huge, oddly enough, because they are the scrawniest weirdest things on my body and always have beem and suddenly they are huge sausage like things I can no longer wrap my hand around and have my thumb and middle finger meet. But my knees are knocking together every step. I give up on you, body. I really do.
Going out today..somewhere. Somewhere mundane that I don't need to be. Average errand-type things all day.
I should really get out of my house, it's been a while..
People amuse me a lot. I am definately a 'people-watcher'.
I always felt privilaged to be on the earth. I think I may really never grow up, everything will always amaze me no matter how trivial or stupid.
It's all wonderful.
I'm such a hippie. Haha.
"Stop walking around with your head in the damn clouds, Ciarra!"
Yeah well sometimes mom, you have to.
I want to buy binge food SO BADLY today.
But God, my body wants a rest. I want my body to have a rest.
I just don't know.
These things should make more sense.
Food may win today.
|Monday, January 24th, 2005|
I want some more popcorn.
Not desperate binge-mode want, but just a subtle obligatory undertone of want..
because my hands smell of the butter and sugar, I just realized.
Of course this should repulse me, and would in a perfect world, but no, It just makes me want more popcorn.
I can't weigh myself. I absolutely cannot and have'nt in about 3 days, because the last time I did I saw 109lbs. and I can not be expected to deal with that.
All I know is that my black buckle-y pants are too tight now, and that's enough to make me not leave my house all week.
Such a stupid thing.
God dosen't it suck to feel like you come off as patheticlly narcessistic when really it's just overwheling, guilty insecurity.
I don't know which one I'd rather be seen as, really.
At 16.3 I could deal.
I was not *pleased*, but I *could* DEAL.
But now I have hips. Now I'm at that point where I could get breasts if I'm not careful.
At 16.3 no one LOOKED AT ME.
But yet everyone STARED AT ME.
I liked that.
I loved that.
Look at me with no sexual association.
Look at me with indifference.
Look at me and feel entirely neutral, if not confused.
I want to embody what I feel.
I want to wear my mind.
My raw feelings.
My blankness, my potential.
Not curves and hair and lips.
Not breasts and flesh and anything that looks vaugely fruitful, maternal.
I will get back to 16.3 and beyond.
15.8 is a good goal.
I just like the number?
And so the little woodland creature crawls out of hiding again.
Still here, immortal.
The bulimia is bad.
Not to me but probably to anyone who would observe it enough to have an opinion about it, they would probably deem it something to make a fuss about..
Maybe just a little fuss..
At least *a* fuss..
It's every time I attempt to feed myself now.
I don't know why I need so much?
Maybe I was never taught what was a normal amount to need.
Or maybe I was never taught not to fear the amount you *actually* need and not try to blame your fuck ups on not knowing the "right" amount to need.
God knows, really.
But I ache and I just want to sleep and keep down something other than Jell-O.
I am also coming to grips with my lonliness.
I said it.
I AM LONELY.
But that's my fault because I'm scared of people.
But no, no I'm not.
I love people.
I'm scared of myself.
I fuck up the shiny happy people picture.
I'm the awkward one, not the situation.
Everything is perfect! It's all right there for you and YOU think yourself into fucking it up.
Because you expect it.
And I always write these horrid paint-splattery entries that sound so depressed, no?
But the odd thing is that no matter how deep the hole I'm in at the time happens to be, I'm not depressed, I'm just...smug.
Now there's a word.
|Tuesday, November 30th, 2004|
And yet again, I forget I have a Blurty ::rollseyes::
I'm doing quite oddly ED-wise.
Still alive though.
But I'm immortal, remember?
I truely think I might be...
SI-wise I'm in control as always.
Though now 2 people know I do it.
Wow. Embarrassment there :/
But theyre the type that think SI can only = psycho suicidal or ansgty attention-seeking satanic teenager.
So fuck them really, it's my life, they know nothing.
I'll just keep away from them.
Drug/Pill/Alterd States-wise, it's been 2 weeks and 2 days since I've gotten away from reality.
And I'm not gonna lie and say I'm not craving.
She's still certifiably insane and delusional.
It runs in the family, I do belive.
She's coming over today.
I screamed at her on the phone last night.
I didn't mean to.
I had fallen asleep on my bed for 20 minutes which seemed like 4 hours.
I wasent back in my body yet and I couldnet really move, and I get a phone shoved in my face.
Now she's pissed.
Or actually no, she got over it as soon as I hung up I bet.
Fuck this i'm rambling.
I'm not gonna be Ciarra today.
I don't feel like her, and I'm not chained to her.
I feel very blob-like.
Just a part of the sceanery, blending right into the earth.
I'm quite dissassociative, actually.
Yeah that's that word.
It comes in spurts.
You've got to grab them as they come. like the proverbial brass ring.
I love my mind.
Though I do belive I have fucked it up.
|Wednesday, November 24th, 2004|
|It's all gone to shit.|
|Thursday, November 11th, 2004|
I want to feel a blade on my skin.
In the most far from negative light there is.
I cannot use it as punishment.
I never did.
It frees me.
It's almost as good as orgasming.
Ug, should I fight it?
I hate having to deal with the damned scars.
Maybe just a few shallow cuts tonight..
If anyone I know knew how I get off on such "weird" things,
I think I'd hate myself.
But it's a vice, what can I say?
|Friday, November 5th, 2004|
I just had a fucking panic attack tonight.
I came out in the living room and cried and flipped and then went back in my room and like, apperently blacked out for a second cause I didnt remember walking back to my room.
Who knew that sheer anger could put you in an altered state of conciousness?
Then Mom called to "see if everythings' better than last night".
She seems to think that I'm normal.
You know I think I really am insane.
I know that the cliche' is that insane people don't know they're insane, but...yeah.
Hey if this keeps getting out of control, at least I'll get a zoloft prescription out of it.
Silver lining dude, sillllverr liiining...
This layout reminds me of 'Kill Bill'.
Damn Uma Thurmans' hawt secks, eh?
Yep, I have a vagina and I can say that without shame.
I hate him, why won't he write...
I really am so entirely over him though.
I'm gonna go listen to the Cure and cry.
Blurty for Lenora.