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What I ate today:

A fuckload.

1 chicken rice meal, I finished EVERYTHING.
1/4 porridge
1 cup of coconut ice cream

Woa where's the bitchy voice in my head when you need her?

I cut myself today.

BY ACCIDENT.

Haha.

But the most sadistic thing about it is that I enjoyed watching the blood drip onto the white tiles.

I don't SI anymore, but this gives me relief.

Maybe I am a freak of nature.

i'm weak.

i don't want to die.
i don't want to be fat.

i want to be skinny skinny skinny.

dinner was a game played in a mind meant for two.

i want to eat.
don't eat!
just a little! please!
fine.
just a little bit more.
no! stop it!
last, i promise.
you pig.

i'm so afraid of this disease that i kept stuffing myself.
i overate. i'm too full. and i'm disgusted with myself.

but i'm not a vomit machine. i will NOT stick my finger down my throat and vomit my guts out.

i don't want to die.
but i don't want to be fat.

more restraint next time. i swear, i swear.

I'd rather be dead than fat.

i'm ok.

but i won't be ok forever.

i don't have the urge to pop pills to light a joint anymore.

but my obsession is coming back.

bones are beautiful.

if it's a pill, i'll take it.

It's killing me, it really is. I can feel my brain die a little bit every time I pop a pill. But I keep taking them because I know that everything, all my worries and problems and pain will just fade away.

It's unhealthy, I know, and I've been clean for a few months now, mainly because my friends around me have stopped using and I didn't want them to think that I am addicted.. I can hold back... But every once in a while, my mind reminds me of the awesome feeling it gives me... And for a few hours, all I do is debate with myself whether or not it's worth it to succumb. I've always won.. But I know that I won't win forever.

Before calling the cops on me, I'm ok. I don't need help. It's just a stupid little rant I have to get out of my system before I start making desperate calls.

Guess who's back?

Back again..

For a period of time, I was free from destruction and pain.. But every single fucking time it comes back to this. I've tried so hard to be strong... But I suppose the Angel with the broken wing isn't meant to fly.

I've cut deeper than what I've ever tried to.. It was so deep my flesh opened like a valley and I thought I accidentally sliced a piece of my flesh off.. For a comical moment, I was scrambling all over the floor looking for a piece of my flesh while I was bleeding like a maniac. It scares me because I was so satisfied with myself. The scar is now an angry red, sometime itching, but sometimes, it disgusts me so much.

Why do I always return? Why why why?! Once an alcoholic, forever an alcoholic?

I feel like a fucking sadist! And here you are, my sadistic people, welcoming me with open arms.

Is it even more sadistic because of the fact that I actually feel welcomed?
It feels like coming home.

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