Inside my head

I have numbed myself out.

That night after last post... I tried to sleep for a few hours, but something was nawing at me. I knew what it was, but I resisted it. No, I couldn't cut again. I had done so well. There was hate, sure. Pain of lonliness should be enough, shouldn't it? Why did I have to hurt more? I had already burned myself (accidentally, though I kept it a secret and it hasn't been treated), why did I need the blade.

As soon as five neat, red threads were carved on my arm, I finally slept. It was a relief - and I welcomed it.

Today, I binged then went out and ate stomach-fulls of junk. I spent time smiling with friends, putting on my pristine mask of painlessness and carelessness and perfection and success and happiness. I was "real" with them. I left a little trail that, by the end of the night, warned them that I couldn't take the fat jokes or the jesting about my lack of intelligence.

I came home to drunken parents talking about religion and, essentially, how I am going through a "phase". They want me to be something I am not. My mom wouldn't let me go on a diet with her post-Holidays, but now that I look like I've gained 50ilbs (even though I haven't gained anything on the scale) she is all for it.

I want to stop caring. That's what I did last year, I think. I just stopped caring about the risks, about what other people would think, about how difficult it would be, about how stupid and selfish it would be - I just did it. I stopped everything. I stopped caring and I got happy and I got thin.

I wish I could come here and tell you all that my day was generally good and that I did indeed have a really amazing time with my friends at the lights show tonight. But this is the only place in the whole world where I can tell myself - yes, you had fun. Lying.

It is the only place I can take off the mask.

To my new readers, welcome. Sorry I don't write anything interesting.

Together, we are three

I am you, and you are me and, together, we are three.
You, pain and me.
-Peer Gynt, Ibsen

School boards are the epitome of stupid. Ok, I understand blocking facebook, I do. Even I am guilty of abusing the WorldWideWeb while supposedly doing research on the FLQ Crisis... But, really? Hotmail, blogs, AND Bing? I'm sitting here on my spare, freaking out and about to explode from how stupid I am, and I discover this - my social connection (facebook) is gone, my organizational tool for life (email) is inaccessible, my only outlet for emotion (this blog) is blocked AND to top it freaking off - I can't even search thinspo in a nice, continuous format.

I actually started having a minor anxiety attack (which is so incredibly dumb). Thankfully, I hacked the system because I really, really need to just rant about how, once again, I have deluded myself and placed a large amount of trust in a fantasy (see last post). Sorry for all the ()s.

I lied. Z. and his girlfriend are tight and they are undoubtedly in teenage-puppy-love. He hugs everyone like that. He didn't even look at me at lunch today - just at her and her perfect, feminine self. Over the weekend I convinced myself that there was something there, that he is worth my attentions and that he should mean something to me. Why would I do that... Fuck. I always do this. I emotionally attach myself to someone who I know is unattainable. Then, inevitability, I am crushed and perpetually alone.

Even my friends seemed to ignore me today - oh, look at her, look at her! What a fool she is. Why is she here? She is not one of us, she is not worth our time. She hasn't accomplished anything. No friends, not wanted. She will contaminate us.

That is what their eyes said to me. I haven't cut in almost 6 weeks. I don't know if I'll make it through the day without something letting go. My heart is tight from yet another doomed infatuation. Why did I have to eat before seeing him? I feel sick now.

Holding steady at 140. This damned plateau. I want to get drunk, I want to cut, I want to yell and scream, I want to tell someone ( I hesitate as I type). More than anything, I want this pain to go away. The depression is creeping back, a monster on all fours, dragging me closer and closer.

And more than half of me wants to just let it win.