I'm nothing.

I always manage to suffocate myself longer than before.

Today was forty three seconds or so. 

My body did react to the unusual and risky sensation, but I know that stopping my breath under a pillow won't work. 

The lungs are capable to survive on oxygen for way more than we think, it's incredible, but it's frustrating. 

And as soon as I pass out, my brain will automatically start breathing again. 

Damn it, I don't want breakfast and pill, I don't need breakfast for it, it's just an excuse for eating. 

Damn it I don't want food!

What have I possibly done to be worthy enough for nutrition. 

I like my protruding ribs, my almost flat but sunken stomach, my slowly showing hip ones and the slow forming of the thigh gap. 

I love the sight of my blood vessels, so beautiful, so delicate, fragile, dangerous, just waiting to be cut. 

Next time I'd cut "professionally" or "formally" or "properly" I'd make sure to slash these handsome fuckers. 

I give my bowl the evils, I can't consume more, I'm full.
I've eaten about seven or so teaspoons of it and I'm full, I made sure to grab the milk most [almond milk] and then bits of oatmeal and avoid as much as possible the sugary and fattening granola.
I discarded the rest [which I barely ate] and took my pill.

I don't like the feeling in my stomach.
It gives me even more tremors than usual, my dad thinks it's because of anxiety, and I had it for quite a while [around a year] and I don't find many things that could stress me out, the most I did back then is avoid meals and weight myself religiously.
Nothing to really worry about. 

Well, I'm forced to go outside, to bowling with my family minus my dad. 

I'm getting really tired of my mum's shit. 

She's blaming my brother for the fact that our dad isn't coming with us. 

And she's always comparing them [espacially my brother, and it will affect him severely in the future, and she doesn't do this as much to my sister, but I can see how hurt she is] to me, like I'm the "better" child. 

I'm not the better child, hell, I struggle with the question "to be or not to be" endlessly everyday and still remain without an answer. 

So what makes me superior to them?

My IQ? Me EQ? My age? My past? My future? I'm nothing. 

I'm awful. 

They are fucking beautiful. 

Two beautiful and glorious beings. 

I'm barely an ash compared to them. 

I'm not even nothing, I'm less than it, I'm a sealed void, containing nothing and cannot contain anything. 

Oh shit, my mother forced me to order lunch, I ate a bit, I feel madly full because I wasn't hungry from the first place. 

I don't want to eat that high calorie, chemically engineered, heart-attack causing piece of fattening junk. 

I assume that today's the day. 

I hate myself because of the usual shot and even more because of the wagon, it was probably seven hundred calories for what I ate. 

I'm such a failure, even at that I don't do well. 

I want to purge. 

Maybe if we'd get home soon enough I'd take a shower and discard all the filth. 

My stomach already reacts to it. 

I tried. 

Oh, I tried. 

It didn't work, nothing but sticky saliva came up. 

My gag reflex is indeed shitty. 

Maybe I'd try again at home, having the cold water near me is good, it helps my fingers coax the gag reflex to work. 

And I'd probably drink a cup or two of water, to help it all work better. 

I should've chewed it better when I was eating, it could've helped quite a lot. 

I know that sticky food is a painful bitch to get up, but why not!

I couldn't purge at home, why? Because my parents are awake and I couldn't do it.


Still, no texts.
I'm nothing, and I'm glad they have figured it out by now, I'm a piece of shit that's playing with their minds and remain their friend only for the amusement in the typical teenagers with their silly broken hearts and irrational minds.
Not that mine is any better, but at least I don't worry about my weight or how I look and fashion or boys.
I mustn't eat, I should wear something warm because it's too fucking cold, and I better hide my cuts that are on my thighs, my chest and the barely visible ones on my wrist, and I wonder if I'd be able to have sex with people I trust or hook up randomly to suppress my needs, or remain a virgin, it doesn't really matter.
Nothing matters now but my eating, my self-inflicted wounds and scratches, this blog, music, and my non-existent freedom.


I just had those chats where you talk about the physical and sexual things you're going to do to one another.
Damn it, I love those BDSM typed thing.
I'm addicted to this, even though I'm less into bondage, I know it's necessary to start my discipline training, and oh, how beautiful that would be.
The domination and submission is perfect, and the sadism and masochism is just as great.
 I find the idea of having to beg for pleasuring the other or oneself is wonderful, and being punished for disobeying in purpose, I just love it.
Being filled by warm flesh is blissful, and the pain of being deflowered is magnificent.

I guess I'm going to have quite an interesting sex life in the future.
Submitting myself to a dominator, to rule me, give me orders, my purpose would be to obey him, to be punished if I was wrong in his eyes, to love me and show me how much he does when he hurts me in order that I'd be better.

I assume that without a ruler I'm nothing.

Oh I better stop before I'd enjoy myself too much.

Good night guys, enjoy your lives while you can, and if you can't, then just wait for the first tipsy and frisky night at some strip club, it's worth it.