Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

Too many papers to write this week- mania has ensued. 

I brought my journals from high school to college and read them today. It's like reading a stranger's writing.

I want to be a real writer someday, so if any of this self-pitying, hormonal, dramatic bullshit is made public, it's gonna be goddamn fucking made that way by ME.

Please be warned this shit may be triggering or awkwardly personal, but I only post it because it feels so far away...

"I lost my virginity last night to *. It was alright, I guess, but I still  feel so goddamn alone."

"I know exactly how that is, to love someone who doesn't deserve it because they are all you have. Because any attention is better than no attention. This boy drives me crazy. I can't do it anymore."

"Bleh, it's my birthday. Micah and I went to the Greek restaurant downtown and the server asked why I didn't order anything... I hate being 'that girl'. The hole is bigger than it ever was before. Vomit just propels from my stomach now- no gagging or coughing. I like that."

"I wonder if someday later I won't be able to undo whatever the fuck it is I'm doing to myself  right now. Who cares? In Heaven, everything is fine."

"No more therapy. My parents can't afford it. It's kind of funny how many times I think it's over, when really the periods of happiness are just breaks in the storm. It rained this afternoon and made the roads slippery-so I drove home fast."

On the top of the page I had scribbled, "Genuflection"

"When I opened my eyes at first I didn't recognize where I was. I looked around the room and inhaled . The distinct flavor of tangerine tequila lingered on my tongue and it came flooding back. It was hot in the room, too hot to sleep. The ceiling fan wasn't helping it counted the moments that were taking ages to pass with an abrasive 'tick tick tick' . There was a mugginess to my hairline and a band of sweat had gathered on my forehead.

And then I felt him. Dazed and hungover, I might have expected to wake up next to a stranger but this was far worse. He was still sleeping, sound and sober. His breathing was rhythmic and slow and when I turned to look at him, it was like watching a young child sleep. He was so angelic.

I'm always the first to wake up. I never understood how they could sleep so soundly with another person. I envy those who do not feel the need to destroy all the good things in their lives."

My 16 year old self titled this one, "Happy Birthday, Bulimia!"

"People give me way too much credit for having my mind in order. Truth is, nothing's ever worked. Even when I'm recovering, the madness lurks somewhere in the shadows of my brain, waiting for all the climatic conditions to come together and create the perfect storm. I never felt safe or secure and the desire to move far away has become overwhelming. I guess I think that if I move to a different place, I will magically develop into a different person.

The cold weather makes me do bad things. I'm living on coffee and cigarettes.

People with eating disorders don't just get better. My family, friends, and even my doctors don't realize how much of my brain has been rotted out from starvation. It's all I know. I'm in the midst of one of the worst relapses I've ever had. 9 since Monday. I ate about 670 calories today which isn't restricting for me. I just can't eat as much as they tell you to. 2000 cals is for a very large adult male.

Whatever, nobody really cares or worries about Bulimics. They're just gross.

Yesterday I looked upwards and fell into the sky. I lived a thousand lives before my cigarette burnt out, the ashes tumbling over paper-like fingers.

My skin is purple, no fucking joke."

All the rest is either pretty much the same or about someone else.

 I love you, really I do.