Hey guys.
I'm in school now.
I like it that now I'm posting more.
It's good to finally be with you again.
I didn't ate anything in over 11 hours.
Consumed only water and one teaspoon of honey.
It's about 29 calories.
I'm going to break the fast with large deliciousness.
Ice cream.
Yum.
It's so good.
And I like it.
For lunch I have no idea what to eat.
Rice? Cheerios? Cabbage?
Cabbage wraps.
I don't have lettuce.
I'd like to make pad Thai with rice.
If I'll be able to do it, I would.
But I don't know yet.
I'm hungry.
And I have an apple in my backpack.
I'm less than twenty minutes away from my twelve-hour-no-eat thing.
I know it won't be bad if I'll eat, but it's more a thing of controlling myself.
I think I should buy some razors on Monday.
It will be a good day for it.
I'll stop at the cheap store with all their stuff (I think those are called drugstores but I'm not sure), buy some shaving razors refills, go to the school and office supply store that's under my house if it will be open and buy 1-3 pencil sharpeners.
I need something to control.
If not my food, than my skin.
...
I want her to be jealous.
I want her to cry.
I want her to wish she'd be me.
I want her lying on the floor with a puddle of blood beneath her, because she couldn't stay alive destroying a girl who is now better than her.
I want also her dear friend to be overdosing something and be in a mental ill hospital.
And the third one to be sitting hopelessly, taking pictures of me, of the girl who won it all.
I hope you understand who is who on the story.
MB, MG, Gal.
....
What am I?!
I do everything.
Every single option in the book.
Nothing helps me out.
I'm writing.
I'm screaming.
I'm drawing.
I'm cooking.
If there's else to cut off the emotional eating cycle, give me it.
As long as it's not anti-depression pills.
...
I'm doing my best to avoid binges.
But even that's not enough.
I'll have to find a way to kill the boredom in a different way.
Because when I'm upset/angry/sad/happy/etc I'm not eating.
I'm just too emotional to have emotional eating.
If it's possible.
I guess that preteneding that you can't feel for long enough make them dissappear, now every little bit of it drives me crazy.
I bought two pencil sharpners today.
Guess for what?
Yeah, I know I shouldn't, but the adreneline rush when doing something that is so wrong, makes me actually feel something else than "I hate it" "it's stupid" "can we at least try to do it?" "bored, I'm so fucking bored", and it's such a release.
Imagine like floating in space, you are the most lightweight person in the world, light as a feather, and you are drifting in the beautiful wind.
....
Lousy dull razors.
Is it a joke?
Because I feel that you are fucking kidding me.
I'm sorry for ever saying something bad about you.
Finally!
Some blood I missed to see.
The precious liquid.
I never cutted on the back of my hand.
So weird!
I never knew how much blood it can make
It's sweeter than the rest.
....
I like coincidences.
And with music it happens a lot.
"You left me an open wound" while I watch self harm photos.
Like, a really deep one.
And the girl says it's not deep at all!
DARLING THIS IS A FUCKING JACUZZI FOR YOUR BLOOD.
I never cut to fat.
Probably that only recently I started with my thighs.
As I know my patterns, it will start a new place, first small, then it'll get bigger, more detailed, and more, until it's no longer a safe place, than I'll start with a new place, first small....
I'm a mess.
I'm a preteen.
I'm supposed to make a mess.
I don't even care anymore.
Shame doesn't exist anymore.
I left it to die when my humilation black line was crossed by the devils.
....
I'm like a fucking cat.
Licking my own wounds.
Stupid me.
Thinking that it will work.
It worked for vampires, it might work for me too.
I'm not very human currently, nobody knows my blood type, and I'm not very normal.
And I'm never stopping with pouring blood out of my body.
If not from my vagina, than from my mouth, if not from my mouth or vagina, probably from my skin.
...
I'm racist.
And I don't know what can I say more.
I truly believe that there are differences between each one.
Don't try to even pretend for a second that the black skin person is exactly like the white one.
It's not.
Each place and it's typical genes.
So yes, they can be around at ninety percent the same, but it doesn't mean that they are same.
Always there's a difference.
And I might be considered naive or a child who have no idea from her life, but when somebody makes his sexual orientation/color skin/ other thing as an excuse, I don't give a fuck.
Okay, you are a male into males and females, congratulations, what do you want from me? High five?
Or the successful Muslim? Yeah, great for you? Does it matter?!
Because you are still a human, do whatever you want, do not disturb me.
....
Maybe it's only me, but each time I see a young person (under fifty in that case, usually young will be under thirty for me), smokes, I just say in my head "happy lung cancer".
It's quite rude, but it's the truth.
I won't say it to 50+.
Most of them started young, and their body can't live and function without it's nicotine.
In some point of your life, rehab can be dangerous.
Keep that in mind.
...
Half of those pictures are truly terrifying.
I'm in a good place I guess.
Not completely insane.
I'm quite afraid that one day my heart will race and all the running blood will run out those cuts they have.
I'm giving you a link, if you live with your parents, and you have privacy issues, copy the link and put it in incognito.
http://www.myproana.com/index.php/topic/82770-shsi-pictures-tw-tw-tw/
...
I like the signatures in there, it helps me recognize the people.
And there is one gif, where a person sings "Can you save my bastard soul", and it took me time to understand it's on a stage, and not in a laundromat.
Slightly strange.
But who the fuck have white speakers.
Especially after every single topic in my life somehow will find it's way to music.
Even food.
Because there's a mix in House Of Agnosia, called Fridge/Paradise
Really really really weird.
I'm hearing now Plastic Boy/Twixt.
PFFT.
LIKE WE DIDN'T NOTICE.
I clicked on next unread topic.
I just saw a list of songs.
Mostly of My Chemical Romance, I assumed it was another kind of thing like the songs that give you suicide feelings.
It's trigger songs.
She wrote that they are her favorite band.
I will never guess that.
Sorry, I'm being judgemental now.
It happens sometimes.
...
I have a plan for tonight.
If I'll make it, I'll probably upload it tomorrow.
Wish me luck with waking up early.
Tomorrow I need to do the thousand calorie goodbye jog.
I'll start with the morning if I'll wake up, forty nine minutes.
On the afternoon I'll jog for fifty minutes.
And after a rest with toning and maybe something for my sweet tooth (funny because I don't have two of those), I'll have another forty.
And in the shower I'll increase my crunches (today I did 50, I thought to give up at 25, but I didn't!).
Just remember that 139 minutes of jogging in place burns 1000 calories.
So: 49+50=99+40=139.
Bam.
I hope I'd succeed.
Now I'm going to enjoy in bed from my masochistic (I just heard this word yesterday, and found it funny since the last time I heard it, from my friend) behavior.
Enjoying my own pain, hurting my mind and body.
Well, that's over.
Berries, Survivors,
I hope you'll make it.
...
I'm doing my best to avoid binges.
But even that's not enough.
I'll have to find a way to kill the boredom in a different way.
Because when I'm upset/angry/sad/happy/etc I'm not eating.
I'm just too emotional to have emotional eating.
If it's possible.
I guess that preteneding that you can't feel for long enough make them dissappear, now every little bit of it drives me crazy.
I bought two pencil sharpners today.
Guess for what?
Yeah, I know I shouldn't, but the adreneline rush when doing something that is so wrong, makes me actually feel something else than "I hate it" "it's stupid" "can we at least try to do it?" "bored, I'm so fucking bored", and it's such a release.
Imagine like floating in space, you are the most lightweight person in the world, light as a feather, and you are drifting in the beautiful wind.
....
Lousy dull razors.
Is it a joke?
Because I feel that you are fucking kidding me.
I'm sorry for ever saying something bad about you.
Finally!
Some blood I missed to see.
The precious liquid.
I never cutted on the back of my hand.
So weird!
I never knew how much blood it can make
It's sweeter than the rest.
....
I like coincidences.
And with music it happens a lot.
"You left me an open wound" while I watch self harm photos.
Like, a really deep one.
And the girl says it's not deep at all!
DARLING THIS IS A FUCKING JACUZZI FOR YOUR BLOOD.
I never cut to fat.
Probably that only recently I started with my thighs.
As I know my patterns, it will start a new place, first small, then it'll get bigger, more detailed, and more, until it's no longer a safe place, than I'll start with a new place, first small....
I'm a mess.
I'm a preteen.
I'm supposed to make a mess.
I don't even care anymore.
Shame doesn't exist anymore.
I left it to die when my humilation black line was crossed by the devils.
....
I'm like a fucking cat.
Licking my own wounds.
Stupid me.
Thinking that it will work.
It worked for vampires, it might work for me too.
I'm not very human currently, nobody knows my blood type, and I'm not very normal.
And I'm never stopping with pouring blood out of my body.
If not from my vagina, than from my mouth, if not from my mouth or vagina, probably from my skin.
...
I'm racist.
And I don't know what can I say more.
I truly believe that there are differences between each one.
Don't try to even pretend for a second that the black skin person is exactly like the white one.
It's not.
Each place and it's typical genes.
So yes, they can be around at ninety percent the same, but it doesn't mean that they are same.
Always there's a difference.
And I might be considered naive or a child who have no idea from her life, but when somebody makes his sexual orientation/color skin/ other thing as an excuse, I don't give a fuck.
Okay, you are a male into males and females, congratulations, what do you want from me? High five?
Or the successful Muslim? Yeah, great for you? Does it matter?!
Because you are still a human, do whatever you want, do not disturb me.
....
Maybe it's only me, but each time I see a young person (under fifty in that case, usually young will be under thirty for me), smokes, I just say in my head "happy lung cancer".
It's quite rude, but it's the truth.
I won't say it to 50+.
Most of them started young, and their body can't live and function without it's nicotine.
In some point of your life, rehab can be dangerous.
Keep that in mind.
...
Half of those pictures are truly terrifying.
I'm in a good place I guess.
Not completely insane.
I'm quite afraid that one day my heart will race and all the running blood will run out those cuts they have.
I'm giving you a link, if you live with your parents, and you have privacy issues, copy the link and put it in incognito.
http://www.myproana.com/index.php/topic/82770-shsi-pictures-tw-tw-tw/
...
I like the signatures in there, it helps me recognize the people.
And there is one gif, where a person sings "Can you save my bastard soul", and it took me time to understand it's on a stage, and not in a laundromat.
Slightly strange.
But who the fuck have white speakers.
Especially after every single topic in my life somehow will find it's way to music.
Even food.
Because there's a mix in House Of Agnosia, called Fridge/Paradise
Really really really weird.
I'm hearing now Plastic Boy/Twixt.
PFFT.
LIKE WE DIDN'T NOTICE.
I clicked on next unread topic.
I just saw a list of songs.
Mostly of My Chemical Romance, I assumed it was another kind of thing like the songs that give you suicide feelings.
It's trigger songs.
She wrote that they are her favorite band.
I will never guess that.
Sorry, I'm being judgemental now.
It happens sometimes.
...
I have a plan for tonight.
If I'll make it, I'll probably upload it tomorrow.
Wish me luck with waking up early.
Tomorrow I need to do the thousand calorie goodbye jog.
I'll start with the morning if I'll wake up, forty nine minutes.
On the afternoon I'll jog for fifty minutes.
And after a rest with toning and maybe something for my sweet tooth (funny because I don't have two of those), I'll have another forty.
And in the shower I'll increase my crunches (today I did 50, I thought to give up at 25, but I didn't!).
Just remember that 139 minutes of jogging in place burns 1000 calories.
So: 49+50=99+40=139.
Bam.
I hope I'd succeed.
Now I'm going to enjoy in bed from my masochistic (I just heard this word yesterday, and found it funny since the last time I heard it, from my friend) behavior.
Enjoying my own pain, hurting my mind and body.
Well, that's over.
Berries, Survivors,
I hope you'll make it.
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