7/30/17

I'm in this strange place where I'm slowly but very surely falling toward the "I don't care. What's the point of eating ever again?" mindset. The scary part is that it's starting to slip into drinking as well. The act of drinking water even seems greedy and selfish and unclean.

On the positive side, my sprained foot is healing well I think. It's hurting a lot less.

7/23/17

7/16/17

7/9/17

Throwing up.
Blood.
It was brown.
At least I think it was blood because I hadn't eaten anything brown or even remotely close.
Lately I've just been drinking water to throw it up.
Fuck food.

I'd rather not eat than throw up blood though. And obviously eating isn't the issue, but the fact that I love the feeling of control I get when my fingers are deep in my throat.
I'm pretty sure my fingers are permanently scarred from my teeth hitting them.
The scars make me smile.

It's all about control.

7/2/17

Drank and threw up a bottle of wine for breakfast. Everything kept moving, even when I was sitting down. Nothing ever stays still. Nothing feels permanent. It feels so delicate. Like a thin ice wall about to break.