I feel sick. I feel fat. I am fat. A piece of lard so pathetic and lazy that even the biggest of elephants seem more graceful and perfect.
I don't condone purging. It is a sign of weakness and no control.
I purged today. I lost control. It is was the only way to shove the cheeseburger and 100 calorie pack of chocolate pretzels out of my body without allowing calories to pass through. I'm pathetic.
I suppose I don't even condone Ana. If any friend of mine confessed to an ED, I would get them help that very minute. And yet here I am, typing to my secret Ana world full of the winter girls I wish to become. I love Ana with all of my being. The only way I feel control is when Ana is by my side. Aren't I twisted? I cling to the feeling of being "sick", of dizziness and hunger. I cannot be without theses things. So pathetic. So fat.
My grandpa died yesterday. He
I hope he saw from Heaven how I heaved into my own porcelin idol. I wanted to scream to the ceiling and ask him if he was happy now. That's the type of horrible person that lives inside of me. Serves me right that my digusting outsides should reflect my inner concience.
I hate myself.
I have no control.
The more I write, the more pathetic I feel. I complain to a computer screen and end up sitting on my ass waiting for a miracle.
And I will be fat for the rest of my life if I don't change.
I want to starve.
I want to starve until I float away and die.