November 23, 2011


The most terrifying word ever.

I don't even want to eat a ton and purge.

I just want to not eat.

The good thing about being 18 is that they can't control me. Not legally. Not really.

So when I get too stressed out, I can deal with it. My way.

Currently that seems to be grabbing my purse (containing wallet, cigarettes, lighter, phone) and running out the door. "I'm going on a walk/going to meet Bob/Fred/George/Amanda/whoever the fuck!"

Sitting at the kitchen table with my mom while she's stuffing carrots into the food cutter thingy...
"You don't smoke, do you?"
Thoughts flashing to the cigarette I smoked that morning.
"God no. Never, mom. Really. I don't even know how to!"

Fuck. I won't get addicted though. Really.

I hope.

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