Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Slap to the face from high school life all of a sudden. I knew I shouldn't have put on that music. Any single song can completely send me back to a time, just like a smell or a TV show, or a movie... a book. It's ridiculous but I am feeling a bit dark and I took a shower last night but I feel disgusting. Yeah. I took a shower for the first time in forever. I hate baths now. Think of all the disgusting germs that I was just soaking in, germs from other people and things washed up from the drain like another giant hair ball. So gross.
I didn't sleep at all and it is 10:30 in the morning. Took my meds with a 50 calories rice cake, apple cinnamon flavored. Three or four nibbles in and I am staring this thing down, trying to figure out how to make myself eat it before I leave. Otherwise I might dry heave in the car, or pass out. Screw that.
Remember how this used to be my favorite song and then listening to it would send me into a panic attack? PTSD. He gave me PTSD from what he did to me at the beginning of the year. I don't even want him anymore. I want out. I want to mutilate my skin. I wish I had shaved my under arms and my legs. I feel so unclean and disgusting.
I want a job with long sleeves and winter all around so I can cut and shred my arms until there is no skin, just dripping, drying blood gushing out into bandages, helping me to cope and feel again, and to feel better. Maybe I just need the color. Maybe I need the pain so that my life will come back into focus.
I don't think I will ever not be fucked up. When I have no guy to chase after I am lost. What if I shift my emotions to someone I don't want to be with?
All I had last night after throwing up stomach bile was that potato and maybe two handfuls of sour cream and onion chips. I worry about how many calories that must be. Chips always throw me off. I hope I don't gain. Since I didn't sleep last night, I can't wake up and weigh myself. I have to wait until tomorrow. Today is going to be a bit rough. Especially if D, the guy from work who wants to help me can't keep his hands and fingers to himself. What is it with this guy and his obsession to feel every scar and bone he can see?!?!?!
Then he will ask me what's wrong, and if I am okay constantly. Everyone should know that I absolutely hate that. If I want to talk about something, nothing is stopping me. If I even trust someone enough to want them to know what is going on... Wait I can't think of anyone like that. Screw it.
And I can't find a large Tshirt of my own so I have to fucking wear H's to cover my shoulders and cleavage because I am sick of showing the world everything. The more he sees, the more he touches.
Oh. H is at R's again by the way. Since... oh day before yesterday.
But anyways, I hate when people bug me about my feelings. He will push it too, like he always does- D I mean. I don't mind if he takes lead but if he wants to tell me what to do and fucking man handle me and force me or even pressure me to do anything, including talking when I don't give a shit. He has another thing coming.
I'll stop now. I am obviously not in a pleasant mood. Everything hurts. I feel so sick right now, and since I have stopped eating much. But I don't care. The results as seen on the scale and my body are too great for me to cease. And I figured out why I don't look as much as I weigh. It's because I have a small waist but my butt and thighs, and around my hips are fat as shit. Also, I think maybe my hips are too wide to ever be as skinny as I like. Fuck it if I have "birthing hips" like K says I do. She can go to hell because she will never look like me the hag.
Out.

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