I purged clumps of blood yesterday.
I had this weird feeling afterwards.
My heart felt strange and everything got really slow.
I had to lay down for two hours.
I'm shaky and constantly cold.
My nails are always a weird blue purple color(it fades into orange and my nails look like a sunset).
Despite the fact that these should be worrying I can't help but feel proud that finally; finally, I am showing signs of sickness.
And then today I got my period.
It's a month late but that makes no difference.
It came back and I'm in so much fucking pain and all I want to do is scream.
And possibly cry which is guaranteed considering I'm a hormonal wreck.
I don't think I could possibly explain the disgust I currently hold for my body.
The longest I lost my period for was four months.
I feel like a failure and nothing ever work out right.
No matter what I do I'm healthy or faking it or not sick enough or don't warrant help and I'm just so fucking SICK of it.
I'm tired of sitting here being at a health weight when I feel like the living fucking death.
I'm tired of trying to prove the fact that I have mental illnesses.
I'm tired of people scoffing at me when I say I suffer from disordered eating.
I'm tired of not having a fucking diagnosis to justify my self hatred.
I'm really fucking tired.

I hate the not knowing.
I hate the second guessing.
I hate the nights I sit here alone wondering if you passed out or just don't feel like talking.
I hate alone.
I hate everything about alone.
I hate the emptiness.
I hate the constant worrying if I did something to make you start to resent me.
I hate thinking that you could resent me.
I hate being alone thinking that you think these things.
I hate not being able to ask you if any of the things I worry about are true.
Alone feels like shit.
Thinking you resent me feels like shit.
Being alone with the thought that you could possibly resent me makes me want to kill myself.

Don't leave me.
I don't think I could take it.

I'm scared that you'll get tired of me.
What if one day you wake up and can't remember why I was so special to you at the beginning?
Something in the back of my mind is telling me that you don't love me.
There's an increasing emptiness in your voice when you say those three words, or am I imagining it?
Is this my paranoia whispering into my ear when I'm on the edge of consciousness?
What are you thinking?
Why don't I already know?
I'm afraid of these answers.
I'm terrified that it's all true; that I've lost whatever it is that made you think I was worth it.
I don't want to lose you but I can't help but think that's what's happening here.

I read all of your comments and I appreciate all of you.
I think there is something a lot of you don't see though.
I am not actually trying to get better nor was that ever my intention.
I do not have any plans of sticking around for much longer.
I do not love myself.
I don;t know if I ever really knew how to.
I can't even fathom having a future.
I don't see myself going to art school or accomplishing any of the things I once hoped to.
I don't think I can handle any of this much longer.
I'm so sorry.

Leave me at the altar

I'm getting to the point where I think about suicide even if I'm not feeling upset.
I was with my family over thanksgiving and it was probably one of the hardest moments of my life.
Every time I would get a hug or a glance my way I would wonder how that person would react if I commit suicide.
My uncle killed himself when I was three weeks old.
I never knew him.
The only thing I can think of when I hear his name is how it must have felt to pull that trigger.
My six year old cousin kept telling me how much she loved me and how I was her favorite cousin ever.
I can't deal with that.
I couldn't take any of it.
So every chance I got I would refill my wine glass.
On my way to my cousins house I purged in a gas station restroom.
People heard me.
They talked louder so they could hear each other over the sound of me choking on my fingers.
I haven't cut in about three weeks.
I plan on cutting my upper arms tonight.
I can't help but wonder if I should try and get help before its too late.
There won't be another hospital trip because the next time I attempt I have no doubt that I will not survive.
There is something wonderfully comforting about that.

Tired

Its that time of year when I can't see the fucking point anymore.
Everything is just so exhausting.
I keep trying for the people I love but guilt can only go so far.

I don't even care anymore.
If I get desperate enough I'll cut myself in a crowded room.

Purging in public doesn't even phase me.

I stopped looking for reasons to stay a long time ago.
All I want to do is sleep.

I'm so done with being stuck in a life I'm not living.
I'm such a coward but I'm too tired to really give a fuck.