  I just totally binged and I'm feeling really depressed. I have a lot of sores in my mouth from purging so much and I really can't purge.
I just hate myself so fucking much. No matter how hard it is in the moment, I am going to fast like I never have before to get rid of the Klondike Bars that have gone directly to my thighs. I am so disgusted by myself and I can't stand it anymore. My hands are fat. My ankles are fat. For fuck's sake, my ears are fat. I just wish I could be a normal girl. I wish I didn't have to beat myself up so much over some ice cream. But I'll never be able to escape the Nutrition Facts label; it literally haunts my dreams. I wish I were blessed with a super-fast metabolism, but who doesn't?
I wish I were less like me and more like the people I wish I were like. Why did I have to turn out so messed up? Why couldn't I get addicted to running instead of something so degrading, depressing, shameful? I'll tell you one thing: there's nothing more degrading than being splashed in the face by your own barf and knowing that it's all your doing.
I wish I were "that girl". I just wish I weren't so fucking me. "Reality is a crutch for people who can't cope with drugs. " -- Lily Tomlin "It is possible to fail in many ways...while to succeed is possible only in one way. " --Aristotle "If we don't succeed, we run the risk of failure. " -- Dan Quayle "Try as hard as we may for perfection, the net result of our labors is an amazing variety of imperfectness.
We are surprised at our own versatility in being able to fail in so many different ways. " -- Samuel McChord Crothers "Good habits result from resisting temptation. " -- Ancient Proverb Okay enough of that. I'm sitting here reading quotations about health and I'm reflecting. I'm really sick. If I am eating at all, I throw it right up. I have a disease that is bound to plague me until my dying day, whenever that may be. It could be tomorrow; it could be in 10,000 tomorrows. This disease has wrapped its hands around me and with every day that passes it squeezes harder and harder; I am going to suffocate in the hands of this disease.
But I'm not ready; I am not ready to put this behind me. The idea of death, though somewhat real, as of yet has not become such a threat that would cause me to take such an action. My heart wrenches and my brain screams; and still I say no. 
