Epitome of a terrible day

I woke up with the intense knowledge of how little I got done yesterday. I sulked through the morning preparations with carelessness and a ridiculous appetite.

I'm pretty sure I failed my biology final. I either did decent or passed. I wasn't sure about anything.

My social in-class essay went alright, I felt like I had a decent grasp on it. But, again, I'm not sure.

During my spare, I went in to talk to my English teacher because I was still, the period before hand, drawing a blank of how to approach the in-class essay and what to do with it. At this point, I am beyond frustrated with myself and my idiocy. I kept asking, "why can't I get this?"!!! She tried to help. She really, really did. I ended up having to give the excuse, "My brain isn't all here" which led to the question, "are you okay?" No. Ms. K, I'm not ok. I can't focus on this essay because I'm too preoccupied with the fact that last night I searched "how to kill yourself without pain" on google and stared intently at a full bottle of advil for a good 30mins. I'm too mad that, despite eating a full breakfast and lunch, I accepted my friends unwanted chocolate bar at lunch, and that I know I will binge tonight. I'm not okay.

I hesitated. Not long enough to make her curious, I hope. I threw out some lame excuse and tried to focus. It didn't work. The bell rang with a blank sheet of paper. I made my way up to the library where I spent 30mins staring at a blank word document, then started typing. Now, I honestly can say I have no idea what I said. I seriously considered writing a letter to her instead, but I know I put something related to the topic. I also know it probably would merit a C. Max. I handed it in with the promise that I'd do better next time, and the wish that I could.

A day full of failure.

Then, I went to work where it was painfully slow - so I had more time to ponder my cuts and my tears and drown everything in a pack of chips. I didn't come to any conclusions other than: Well, it can't get any worse. It's not just irrational weight and irrational fears of failure. It is actual over-eating of fatty junk and true failure.

If I could, tomorrow, I would stay in bed all day. I would not answer a text or an email. I would just stay. Ignore the world. Fast. Hate myself. Get up the next day with renewed need and belief. But I don't have the time or ability to do that.

Remember that girlfriend I had dinner with last week? I told her a lot of stuff about my life. I'm painting sets with her tomorrow and I'm scared something will come out. I don't want anyone worrying about me. I don't want anyone to categorize me. I don't want the label "ED" or "Obsessed" or "Despressed" attached to me along with every other stupid label I have.