4. I want to cut, but I don’t, because it seems pointless. 

    I want to drink, but I don’t, because it seems pointless. 

    I want to starve, but I don’t, because it seems pointless. 

    I just want to be done, but every time I seriously contemplate it, I can’t find the energy to actually just get it over with. I am so pointless. My dreams are dead. My heart is empty. It’s like a wildfire blew through my soul, and the only parts of me  left are the black, crumbling pieces that amount to nothing. That accomplish nothing. 

    I just want this to be over…. 

  5. My boyfriend made a really awful joke about cutting yesterday. 

    Somehow, over the course of our two year relationship, he never realized that the excessive scars all over my body were an indication of something.

    It felt awkward explaining it to him. It was as if I was also explaining it to myself, but it still didn’t want to make sense. 

    I disassociate a lot of the aspects of my past from my present-day self. Unintentionally.

  11. and it’s getting worse…

    and it’s getting worse…

  12. mythinsponow: Thinspo 49. by thinminmeg on Flickr.

    mythinsponow:

    Thinspo 49. by thinminmeg on Flickr.

  15. So, I went to the doctor the other day… because I’ve been developing weird allergies to like, basically everything, and also suffering from symptoms that seemed consistent with hypothyroidism (which I recently found out runs in my family)… 

    Instead, the doctor honed in on my previous diagnosis of anorexia, my hospitalization for anorexia, and then my diagnosis of depression that went along with that hospitalization. For 45 minutes. 

    It was really awkward- she tried to refer me to an ED program in Seattle and I was just like… no, I’m ok. I’ve been to two. I think two is enough- can we do blood work now? 

    And then she just got all scoff-y at me and was all ‘well, I think you’re wrong, but sure, we can do blood work.’ I mean, the whole insomnia-fatigue-random-allergic-reactions-to-everything thing- definitely less important than my hospitalization for anorexia when I was 12. COMPLETELY.