98

98. I should feel better about this, right? I should feel good? Satisfied? Relieved? I should be able to sigh and finally be able to take a deep breathe?

I don’t feel anything. I don’t know why I expected anything other than this. I don’t know why I thought this would be enough. It’s not. It never is. Double digits is always a slippery slope. I feel like once I reach it or get close to it, i’ll be fine and nothing will go wrong. I won’t relapse, I’ll be fine. I’m always wrong. I always relapse.

I always get worse because I always want more from me and less of me. I never win. I never get free of this cycle. I’m always trapped in this winding stairwell

I tried my hardest
to make you feel
something, anything.

But in the end,
Out of all the things
I made you feel
You only remembered the bad things.

Like the time I
made you cry
when you peeled off my pants
after I had crawled into your bed
and you saw all the
blood and slices in my skin.

You remembered the time
I made you yell so loud
that the neighbors came up
from downstairs to check up on you
because you found out I was smoking
because my cigarettes fell out
of my sweatshirt pocket.

Or the time I
passed out on your bed
shaking and sweating and barely breathing.

You were scared,
I could feel it, sense it.
I tried to scream apologies at you
but you couldn’t hear
over the chattering of my teeth.

Like the time you couldn’t
look at me, my face,
for a day because I
made myself throw up
that meal you bought
special, just for me.

I screamed apologies,
I tried to breathe them
into your lungs,
but it turns out
I was just drowning you
instead.

I’m sorry.

But you forgot the good
things that I made you feel.

Like when you spent an
entire day with our friends
at the mall, searching for
the perfect valentines day present.
And when you finally found it
you couldn’t keep that
stupid grin off your face
until you handed it to me.

It was a stuffed rabbit
I slept with it every night.
Even after we broke up.
The first time
and the second time.
I didn’t stop sleeping
with that bunny
until I had found someone else.

Or the time we went
to that concert
and we sang and shouted
our favorite song
at each other and
with the crowd all around us.
That was also the
weekend that we lost
our virginity to each other.

You said that virginity wasn’t
that big of a deal.
But i could tell that
it meant a lot more
to you than you let on.
That’s okay,
it meant a lot
to me too.

But you don’t remember
all of those things.
You only remember
the hurt that I
never meant to
inflict on you.

smashing my head against the table because I’ve had too many calories today and by too many I actually mean less than the recommended amount but too much for my ED. It’s under 1,200 freaking calories and I’m still ready to rip my skin off. 1,200. when did this become too much? When did this become a problem? Why the fuck am I so fucked up? I feel so fucking massive. I can’t stand being at this weight anymore. i can’t stand eating anymore, yet it’s all I do. I can’t deal with this. I’m huge. I’m huge. I’m huge. I can’t do this. I can’t. I need to stop eating. I need to lose weight. i can’t eat. I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I’m huge. I’m huge. I’m huge.

rambling updates

Got back yesterday morning from visiting J’s extended family for a week and a half. Apparently now I’m officially part of the family, so now I “can’t leave” (J’s words) not that I was planning to anyway. It was nice, peaceful, but boring. There was no wifi and hardly any phone service there, so I spent most of the time reading and trying not to binge but not always succeeding very well .
J and I were also talking about the whole engagement thing again. Then looking at rings and stuff to show him what ones I really like and all that. So who knows, maybe by next year I’ll be engaged, or maybe by Christmas with the way J is.
As much as it scared me at first, I really don’t mind the idea of being engaged. The actual wedding/getting married part is a whole other story. But that’s not for a while.
I’ve told J a dozen times that he is the only person I’ve ever been able to see a future with, like a long term possibly marriage future, and it’s entirely true. I knew with all my past relationships that they were only temporary things. This was always different. In the beginning when we first started dating it felt like a longer term thing, maybe not quite marriage, but long term nonetheless.
I don’t being an adult is weird. Especially when I still look like a child and get mistaken for one often enough. It’s just weird. I don’t like being an adult.

believe it.

I can feel myself breaking, I’ve been saying it for weeks. But it’s not that sudden shatter of dropping glass on cement. It is the painfully slow decaying that goes unnoticed by so many until it is too late and it’s collapsing under the pressure. It’s the kind of breaking that will drive you insane if you notice it because no one else will see it and no one else will believe it.
But when it finally collapsing, everyone will see, everyone will know. There will be no hiding it. It will be out in the open for every one to gape at. Most will not stick around to help pick up the pieces. Even more will leave when it comes to putting everything back together again and rebuilding. Will there be anyone left when my time to rebuild comes? Will there be anyone left when I need help to strengthen the withered supports? Or will I be alone again to try and fix things haphazardly and as quickly as I can manage to make myself appear presentable again? Will I be able to rebuild myself this time around?