READ THIS NOW.

alright so here's the deal. Went to the gym and worked out hard. Went in the sauna for a ridiculously unhealthy amount of time thinking you dumb bitch you deserve to suffer and had the intention of staying in there, sweating, until I thought I was dying. And I did. Got out the door before I passed out on the cold tile. Eventually calmed a spectator and made it to my car. Started hyperventilating while driving. Worst panic attack in the history of my life. Couldn't breathe, very blurry/starry vision. First my hands went numb (not ideal for driving) and soon my whole body. I eventually pulled over and tried to breathe/drifted in and out of consciousness for a few minutes. Eventually calmed down. Drove home with a vacant, frozen mind. In a panic I called J. and i told him. He knows about this stuff anyways. And of course, like every time it comes up, he just talks about how he doesn't know what he can personally do for me and how I need professional help. And like every time, I say I know, I just can't stop. I'm sorry. I'm scared. and we talk about it. And then the next day we don't talk about it. Normally we only talk about it when I'm coughing blood onto my hands or passing out on the ground. But this time he seems determined. He keeps pushing how, if I absolutely cannot tell my parents to get real help, at least to talk to some kind of adult. Unfortunately, due to my incredible trust issues, I do not have any of those. Except for his mom. I like her, and she cares about me like a normal mother. Not a psychotic mother or a drunk mother, but a nurturing, good-intentioned mother. So J is insisting that next time I come over, I talk with her. And I accepted that. I feel like it could be good...? I dunno. I think I like the idea of her talking to me. There is something about her that is warm and caring and makes me feel like I don't have to be ashamed.
And let me tell you, I am ashamed.
I told J that it would be really difficult for me to start such a conversation and he said "fine. then I'll just walk in the room and say 'mom, elle is a raging bulimic and needs help.' and then leave."
Raging bulimic? I was taken back by that a little. Is that really how he thinks of me. Is that what i really am? Goddamn truth, how I hate to face you.

I am so fatigued

from working for nine freaking hours. my god. Also I ate minimally all day, which I was happy with. Then I got home from work and ate a normal(ish) sized dinner that I promptly threw up. You know what's strange though? I came home from work pissy and uptight and after purging I am so calm and relaxed. I know that can't be healthy hahahaha. oh well.

BAHAHA this is my life. how comical.

I woke up this morning, the image of my skinnier self still prominent in my mind, thinking, I will not eat today. I will be thin. Then, I went to school. Got home AND ATE EVERYTHING. Like, holy shit. Threw up. Thought about things. Stood up, blacked out. Laid on the floor. Ate dinner with my family. Threw up a lot. Went to pick my sister up from sports practice.

And you know what happened? I realized something. J called me right after I purged all of dinner and I just couldn't stop laughing and giggle and smiling and having such a wonderful moment. I know its not normal, but throwing up makes me feel high as a kite. And you know what else? I always play music when I'm purging to help cover the noise, and sometimes I glance in the mirror and realize that i've been dancing a little...like while I throw up. Like, what the HELL KIND OF BRAIN DO I HAVE? And contrary to the capital letters, I am actually laughing. I think I'm to the point where I realize that I am completely insane and i'm okay with that.

Strange world we live in, that's for sure.

Just saw a picture of myself from exactly a year ago today. I look so much thinner. I will be that again. I promise.

Control, Control, I can see your shadow

and I will follow you until i capture you once and for all.

My next beauty pageant is in exactly one month. I am ten pounds heavier than i was when I competed last year. FUCK ME.

Here is the plan: I just had another meltdown/purge fest. Now I am going to go to the gym and burn off anything that somehow managed to stay in my system. Then tomorrow I will fast. All I can have is coffee (black) and water. The day after that will be handled when it comes. I am just going to make immediate plans for now because I tend to screw up when I plan too much.

All I know now is that I am empty and it feels so good. I will retain this emptiness. I will be strong. I will be thin for this pageant.

I will, and no one can stop me.

Everything is just falling apart

my family constantly yells at me for being inadequate, often in a drunken rage. my stepsister decided she doesn't want to be a part of my family and is moving full time with her mom. J is going to ask out that nasty whore skank bitch that I hate and probably ignore me.

Also I am still fat and I still hate myself beyond belief. And i've been doing some damn stupid things. my grades are slipping (steeply), i never sleep, i cry ALL THE TIME because im PATHETIC, and i pretty much have no recollection as to what happiness ever was.

I had a complete and epic meltdown like an hour ago. Ate some pie. threw up. finally a moment of calm. vomiting does that for me. Thats normal, right?

But honestly who fucking cares.

and i have to get another pageant dress tomorrow and im SO FUCKING FAT that i am going to look horrid in all of them.

FML.

I just want to die. Just to waste away into nothingness. Just lean back, arms outstretched, and let the wind take me away.

FUCK THIS

I AM JUST SO MAD AND ANGRY AND SAD AND HURT AND EVERYTHING

J is about to start dating this girl that i ABSOLUTELY DESPISE AND HAVE ALWAYS HATED BECAUSE SHE IS A STUPID, INDECENT, TRASHY, TRAILERPARK WHORE AND SHE SHOULD DIE.

Everytime I think about her I want to vomit. But I cant because I can't eat because of the image of her face in my mind.

FUCK

and DONT YOU DARE SAY IM JEALOUS because im not. I JUST FUCKING HATE HER.