Sweetheart can bargain half price mistakes

I scare more easily these days.
It makes me feel unsure of myself and my feelings.
One moment I'll feel wonderful through-the-roof-great and then I think that maybe I'm too happy and find myself plummeting straight into a panic attack.
I binged and purged last night and it felt bizarre.
Like maybe it wasn't happening to me but someone else.
It's weird now that I have started to equate food with calm or numbness.
Food has always been closely associated with my emotions but lately things have lost their taste and shape.
I just feel the temperature and the solidness; no texture.
Been talking to some old faces.
Distant far-away friends of a few or so years ago and each voice leaves an unsavory lump in my throat.
They knew someone else from a time that doesn't really exist to me anymore.
Maybe its so hard because I hate to face what I did to them; how I treated them.
Or maybe it has to do with who I am now and facing how fucked up everything got.
My memory is in tatters.
I feel like every minute that passes is another snapshot gone- just another voice I can't attach to a pair of lips.
Everything feels so disconnected, or maybe that's just me?
I can't seem to fit myself into any picture not even the ones of my face.
Is it just that I see the change?
That the shift in personality, behaviour, thought, and feeling is so evident so prominent in the glassy brown eyes that I can't identify with my reflection?
Or is it that I never really did in the first place?
I have so many questions and none of them has or will have any type of answer.

Ignore them tonight you'll be alright

I never claimed to be a good person.
If help is available I will readily refuse it.
My self destruction is automatically infinitely more important than anything else in my life: little to no exceptions.
If I feel that my life style is in danger I will do everything in my power to ensure its security: if that means dropping a friend or all of them I will do so.
Hypocritical; narcissistic; cowardly; unintelligible; indefinitely bitchy- so don't expect to much.
I have a tendency to get so depressed I forgo all semblance of humanity in favor of an eight day nap (that includes hygiene  try waking up after a 19 hours of sleep face covered in grime and smelling like that moldy strawberry at the back of the fridge that seems to have grow its own forms of sentient life).
My stash of pills, expired food, bloody and vomit covered towels, angsty suicide notes, and rusty razor blades are more important than school work or relationships so don't be surprised if I blow you off to count and arrange them for hours on end- nothing personal except yeah it actually is.
I can't make plans even a day ahead because I will wind up stressing so much over it that either my head will implode or I will take all of the pills I can find around the house (I have actually done this several times and now that I have a stash of 217 pills I think it'll probably be fatal this time).
I feel more at home in the psych ward than I do anywhere else which kind of makes me want to give up on life in general.
If you are close to me at all you will be hurt- and by hurt I mean I will probably rip your heart out of your chest put it through a meat grinder and probably let my dog shit on it a few times.
It'll be completely unintentional I swear.
Don't ever be my friend because I will tell you how wonderful and important you are and then drop off the face of the earth for weeks on end only returning when you threaten to leave my sorry ass.
I am obviously the most classy person you'll ever meet and on a good day my clothes will be covered in vomit, blood, snot, sweat, and probably little bits of food from six weeks ago (if it's a particularly wonderful day some of that vomit won't even be mine).
Procrastination is an art and I'm goddamn Da Vinci who else can say they haven't done any school work in three months (to be fair I go to a digital academy which has some of the lowest scores in the state so just logging into the homepage is considered attendance)?
I'm really vain and the way I feel about my appearance has the ability to dictate my mood on any given day and/ or drive me to suicide.
My ability to self destruct determines my self worth so telling me I'm looking better or healthy is basically saying I am a failure and a waste and I should probably just off myself already.
If you ever feel the need to comment on my weight or the shape of my body you can deep throat a chainsaw because I honestly don't want to hear it.
I have attached a positive connotation to all things negative so if you tell me I look sick or that my scars are severe I will instantly feel pride in myself for being ill enough for you to notice.
I am not anywhere near a good partner but insult my significant other and you might find your intestines wrapped around your throat.
The only time your opinion actually has an effect on me is if it's a negative one.
Insult my art and I will set myself on fire same goes if you compliment it because I do not believe you no exceptions.
I am only good at giving hugs and if you ever give me a half hearted hug I will never trust you again (but touch me without my consent and you will lose your goddamn torso).
I have a tendency to try to kill myself when my Mom is planning a surprise visit (it's actually really distressing).
I envy people I've never spoken to before.
A lot of the time I spend wishing to be someone other than myself.
Life is just really hard sometimes and I can't really cope.
This is dumb.

I give up.

Really unimportant

My thigh is killing me.
I have a three inch long gash that's fair in depth.
Definitely not my worst but considering I was finally two months (give or take a few days) into recovery this is a huge fucking blow.
But:
I have decided I don't give a shit.
I chewed a small hole in my lip and because I purged yesterday I'm afraid it'll get infected or at the very least continue to hurt like a goddamn bitch.
Amber is mad at me and I can't really say I blame her all that much.
She's upset because I never answer my phone or her skype or facebook messages and she says she won't come to me for help if she needs someone and its kinda fucking insulting?
Like I know I'm a shit friend I stopped priding myself on my friendship skills when I lost basically all of them but to insinuate that I don't care is hurtful.
She forgets that I'm human and that socializing in general for me is very hard considering stepping outside has literally sent me into panic attacks.
So although I'd like to be her pseudo-therapist it's impossible.
There's only so much I can take before her problems all become my problems and wind up triggering me or cause me to relapse so terribly that I get hospitalized again.
That's sort of a terrifying thought considering it'll be an adult psych ward this time and rather than filled with ignorant suicidal children it'll be filled with people who suffer from severely debilitating mental illnesses: people who obviously deserve help more than myself.

Anyways.
I restarted my private-ish secondary blog if anyone wants to join the reading list just comment or send me a message.
I haven't bothered to weigh myself for a while and it's starting to bug me so tomorrow I'm going to jump on the scale.
I've been having weird dreams lately and all of them in some way relate to food. They can't really be called night terrors at this point but they are getting more vivid and morbid so I expect a 72+ hour day coming up shortly.
I woke up at 2:15 amish and I'll probably wind up falling asleep at 3:00 pm again.
More later maybe?

I haven't purged in so long that I can't even get half of it up and so completely disgusted with myself.

Up two pounds

And instead of freaking out I decided to dance all day.
I feel okayish despite the fact that I ate ice cream this morning.
I am slightly (ridiculously) ashamed of myself?
But really good workout day and I think I'll try to dance everyday now.
This is a shitty post but I've been really shitty for the passed few days.
Really sorry.
Possibly more later?

I felt almost normal yesterday

I actually got out of the house and socialized yesterday.
My friend Amber took me to hang out with her group of friends ( which also use to be my group of friends).
I had so much fun.
It was great we went to Ambiance for one of their birthdays and then we got smoothies (and I had a minor freak out because it wasn't the right size smoothie and had too many calories).
Then we all went to another friends house and there were like seven of us in the basement.
It got awkward at some points though.
I have a really hard time trying to talk with people who are normal or not disordered??
And one of the friends Caleb is or was a self harmer?
For some reason every time I got a glance at the scars on his legs I felt really triggered.
It was just hard for me to be around all of them while they ate and laughed and talked about college and jobs.
I'm exhausted and I can't go to college in the fall I'm too busy being a fuck up.
I don't have a job because I'm too unstable.
I can't eat because I have several debilitating mental illnesses that make it impossible to touch pizza without some sort of panic attack ensuing.
I hate being reminded that I'm just another mentally ill kid surrounded by people who can handle their problems with ease.
And the best part?
Four of them are going to art school next year.
I can't go to art school or even apply because I'm too fucked up to do anything like follow my dreams.