Surpirse suprise, you fucking bitch.
Telling me that I make your (in plural your, including the whole family that you decided you control their feelings) life so much harder, and then wondering why am I so like this.

And it's so funny to think that for few good months, I was safe from that suicidal monster, from that disgusting one, the one that tells the ugly truth.
I hate her, and me, bad things come in pairs.

I just want to go back to my birth country, for some sort of a celebration made by my sister/brother/father, and then show her, the other disgusting monster, every inch of cut skin with evil misleading smile.

I know how to make me less awful.
Don't care about me.
Let me starve myself, I enjoy doing it, and any interaction makes me want to emotionally eat.
Let me to get off this therapist, and be finally free to draw anorexics, suicide notes, depressing stories, everything I dream about, at any time.
Let me have emotional breakdowns at one am, and the only things I can do to go back to sleep, is to cut and play with my iPhone, to hear music, and sometimes, stay fully awake.
I want to be the fucking beast I'm inside.

At least I can dream.

You know, there's always the option to quit before the game's first hit.
Just leave it all for America.
Skipping the army.
I'm considering it.

As far as I can see, you'll be free from it's "claws" (As the writer deicedes to call it) of the army as long as you leave before sixteen.
I wish.



I found a great reason why I'm too young and I should've born a lot earlier.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcUza_wWCfA&feature=kp
Watch it.
Please.

...

It's weird.
I'm watching about how to move to America/Europe.
Or just with the easier explination "leave Israel".
One of the suggestions, is to find a place for living for at least the first two weeks, two thousand dollars/euros, and a plan to get a legal job, and some friends that can help.
I have a thing for them all, just I have to add two letters.
I and L to the legal.
Rob a bank, or steal a car, or become a pimp, or a drug dealer, whatever you'd like, get the money, get caught, you'll be in prison for at least few months, enjoy from your new freinds, your brank new gang.
Have fun.

...

I hate you.
And you hate me.
At least seperatly we both hate ourselves.
Fucking joy.
I think this name fits you.
Joy.
That's who you are after all.
The only person who truly understands me, knows personally all my closted skeletons.
You get me.
Don't you?
The only fucking monster who gets me.
Too bad you will never be real, flesh and blood, out of my head...
Nobody to compete with.
Nobody to talk to.
Nobody that breathes.


...

Maybe one day I'll talk to you, I want to.
Finally, somebody that can actually understand my weird messy life.
But you're not here.
You aren't talking back.
Or showing yourself.
If thinking about it, you're such a Joy.
A person, that I can't find.
Please, bother to write to me.
I'm desprate.
And you know it.
I won't lead you to some sort of mental illness unless you'd ask me to (considering that you've passed through this blog staying alive, you're pretty much bulletproof), I want a person.
Person that I can just open my Kik, and write "hi, what's up (insert name of your wicked self)? since you're probably in school/asleep I'll tell you what's happening with me! It's so weird, I still can't believe it, after almost two years of blogging to you, and now it's overwhelming, anyway, I just (insert epic news), although that (insert an horrible depsied scenario of choice)....".
I want a human.
A human that will promise me to live with me, as time will come, we'd be together, living, me and my crazy need to be a perfectionist, and on top of it, a quick thinker, and my obssesions.
You'll be there, and we'll together happily with a shitload of home-grown food.

...


FUCKING THIRD.
ON THIRD I'LL SCREAM.
ON THIRD I'M STRIKED OUT.
Hell.
Fucking bitch!
Well, fucking Joy!
WHAT'S SO GOOD ABOUT MAKING ME TO WANT TO DIE?!
YOU'RE MAKING ME AS TWICE AS WORSE AND AS TWICE AS EXPENSIVE THANKS TO THAT DAMN PSYCHOLOGIST.
FUCKING HELL.
I WANT TO MURDER YOU.
But I'll never give that pleasure to a person with an eating disorder.
Not a fucking single chance.

So going to punish the ones who deserve this.
My "loving" insane mother, who cannot be the only person with an eating disorder that it's symptoms is extreme weight loss, she ruined me, she killed me, and she dragged my corpse, for so long, she made me a beautiful living hell, and she deserves to be punished, by "satan" itself.
My creator (aka MB), deserves to be punished even more, she created that disorders, I remember her clearly, manipulating me, to think that I'm fat (which was and is true, but still!), it ended with a fucking TEN YEAR OLD SKIPPING HER SCHOOL MEALS, she deserves to suffer, to be jealous of me, of my dreams that will come true, and I'll be happy, if not "humiliating" her in the old school, and because of it, humiliating me, with a scar, that burnt again each time over and over I hear this story, than humilating her, while she'll be a weak stupid hoe, I'll win, I'll rule.

I need to fast some more.
Each time I want to eat, I'll write what I want.
I'll make myself a binge list, when I'll be 49 or lower (since the weight flactuates endlessly in my scale), I'll prepare it, for a one evil bingey day.
If I'll even dare to eat in the middle something unaccepted, then, calcuilating my normal portion of each food, and doubling it, seeing it, and then, some mathematic shit to make myself a good thing to make it less harmful.

It's so easy to fast.
The only problem is the boredrom.
I'm  coming home earlier tomorrow, an hour earlier (Which is quite stupid, since the last hor is math, my favorie, thinsparation, happiness, finally feeling whole), meaning, a fucking hell.
I'll have to eat a bit before coming home (I guess no breakfast, thanks to that day change), then lunch, though I can attempt avoiding a large part of, replacing it with something for the practice, small, nice, enough to make me alive, and not dead during the practice, and after it, coming home, taking a nice warm shower (my private place for scratching my head like crazy, watching the dirt go away, enjoying feeling clean, and pure), then, climbing to my bed, watching a movie, with a mentos blast gum or two (low cal, and better than halls mints, in my opinion, though I eat both during class, for a less starving breath, and for making my body to think it's eating,