It's the thousand day.
Today I also have a test (science, and I know just a bit of the metrial, because I don't have an idea what does a cell looks like, I know planaria, I know the squids body system, and where's it's penis and it's inky thingy, I know it, but the small details, I don't know).
So I'm quite nervous.
And because of it I woke up at six thirty, since it's freezing without any blanket or a ski-suit, I just stayed in bed and watched some movies.
I packed for school a 130 calorie meal.
It's a lot, I know, I'm aware, but I need something for my brain while trying to write the correct answers.
It's one large Granny Smith apple (my favorite kind), with cinnamon.
Cinnamon is 19 per tbsp.
and large apple is 110.
I rounded it.
...
I ate it.
I can't believe I ate it.
The apple was there, and now it's gone.
It better give me some energy for good results today at sports, because it's not fair!
Now only 890 left.
Fucking annoying.
What will I eat now?!
I count the pizza as 500.
390 left.
Now what will lunch be?
I want to eat mushrooms today.
They are like, around sixty for the whole can.
...
I'm afraid of the homemade pizza.
I don't know how many calories it got.
It scares me.
I wish there was a way to skip it.
There isn't.
I would love to not eat it.
I think I'll make from the mushrooms something.
Fuck.
On Friday it's four hundred, and I will be okay with it, but it's White Night in the library!
I like to volunteer, but after every nights end we have pizza.
I'm afraid to eat it.
It's around 300+ per slice.
And there's food there!
It's like a death trap.
I guess I'll be deducting or something.
...
I'm carving junk food.
But I won't eat it.
The problem is finding something else.
...
121+50+66+89+27+130+110=593.
That's what I consumed so far.
...
I binged.
I fucking binged.
I have no idea how many.
I feel like a failure.
I don't know what to do.
I should'nt eat that piece of chocolate, I feel like shit.
...
I can't breath.
All of the air I know to breath dissapeared.
No more of it.
My minutes are counted.
I need to find my air.
My beautiful air, the stress-free air of mine.
I can do what I want, and actually enjoy in it.
I'm running out of it.
No more emegancy bottles.
No more of it.
Not at all.
I know when I'll have a new bottle.
It will happen at the middle of April, 2019.
My eighteenth birthday.
Legally, you can suck it.
I can do almost anything I want.
Buy alcoholic drinks, ciggarets, maybe some private-use drugs (I beleve that by then drugs will be legal).
I would have the abillity to own an apartment, a bank account, and myself.
But until then, I have time.
...
You know, if thinking about it, everything is a lie in Israel.
It's not the holy-land when recently a casino made by teens for teens have been found, and the police isn't doing much about it.
Although, they are 16.
Not fair.
I hate the legal system
14+ is legally a teen, making the illegal bitches to have all the rights to open a fresh criminal file.
Well, it's bed time.
I'm sorry that I skipped the idea thing, I'm obssesed with intake.
I didn't even exrecised today!
Tomorrow is 800.
More like less than it.
Way less.
I'm a failure.
I need repairing, and healing.
I'd rather have shit breat and thin body than a fucking mouth hygeine bomb with a stomach that's about to explode.
Bed is a bitch.
I'm going to succeed, nothing will interrupt.
I'm in control, I will be able to achieve my goals.
And if I'm going back I won't.
You can't win the prize if you're not playing the game.
And you better win that one.
Because it's called life.
One last thing, I want to get Yumi bears.
It's vitamin gummy bears
...
121+50+66+89+27+130+110=593.
That's what I consumed so far.
...
I binged.
I fucking binged.
I have no idea how many.
I feel like a failure.
I don't know what to do.
I should'nt eat that piece of chocolate, I feel like shit.
...
I can't breath.
All of the air I know to breath dissapeared.
No more of it.
My minutes are counted.
I need to find my air.
My beautiful air, the stress-free air of mine.
I can do what I want, and actually enjoy in it.
I'm running out of it.
No more emegancy bottles.
No more of it.
Not at all.
I know when I'll have a new bottle.
It will happen at the middle of April, 2019.
My eighteenth birthday.
Legally, you can suck it.
I can do almost anything I want.
Buy alcoholic drinks, ciggarets, maybe some private-use drugs (I beleve that by then drugs will be legal).
I would have the abillity to own an apartment, a bank account, and myself.
But until then, I have time.
...
You know, if thinking about it, everything is a lie in Israel.
It's not the holy-land when recently a casino made by teens for teens have been found, and the police isn't doing much about it.
Although, they are 16.
Not fair.
I hate the legal system
14+ is legally a teen, making the illegal bitches to have all the rights to open a fresh criminal file.
Well, it's bed time.
I'm sorry that I skipped the idea thing, I'm obssesed with intake.
I didn't even exrecised today!
Tomorrow is 800.
More like less than it.
Way less.
I'm a failure.
I need repairing, and healing.
I'd rather have shit breat and thin body than a fucking mouth hygeine bomb with a stomach that's about to explode.
Bed is a bitch.
I'm going to succeed, nothing will interrupt.
I'm in control, I will be able to achieve my goals.
And if I'm going back I won't.
You can't win the prize if you're not playing the game.
And you better win that one.
Because it's called life.
One last thing, I want to get Yumi bears.
It's vitamin gummy bears
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