I was afraid to come back until I had some progress to show.

I do. I haven’t weighed myself in almost 2 weeks. I wanted to wait a full week after the last day I stepped on the scale, but then I got my period a week early and didn’t want to step on the scale because I knew I would have extra pounds of waterweight and because I ate too much.

The last time I checked, I was 119, which is down from the 124 I was the week before. I’m dropping the weight fast, but not fast enough. I’m going to weigh myself again Saturday morning to see what the change is. It better be significant or I think I’ll die.

I’ve been exercising daily (for like three days…. -___- ), but I’m going to keep it up. I’m sick of being a fatass.

Good news though, I was able to fit into my skinny jeans without dying even while on my period. That one pair of Lucky jeans, though, I still have yet to get small enough to get back into.

The thing that kills me the most is that I USED to be so small. If I never was, it would be so much easier to accept myself. But I can’t. I know what I can be. I need it.

I'm so upset I don't know how to deal with it.

I have the urge to cut, throw up, eat, run, jump, bang my head on a wall, scratch something, break something. Anything to output because I can't handle how I feel right now but I can't take any more amphetamines today because I'm afraid they are killing me already. What the fuck I can't.

I fucking love

Working for 50 hours and getting paid for 36. Being called at 1030 and being told not to come in at 11 but to work 2 to 7. Or being told to work 2 to 9 then the day before having it changed to 4 til 9. Not knowing when I'm working until the day before. Having my hours cut when I say I can't work a certain day because I'll be in school. Not being able to work my other job cus my one boss keeps screwing me for hours because he's understaffed as fuck and I'm the only one who knows how to do my job. Fuck you Sam.

i would really love to die tonight

Quickly, quietly

god what the fuck

I wish something would go right for me. Seriously. I don't run a blog for a place to bitch about all the bad things that happen to me. I just talk about my life, which happens to be bad basically all the time.

Tonight my uncle tried to kill my brother. He choked him out and ripped off his shirt. My grandmother had to watch this. She almost passed out. My younger brother had to stop my older one from beating my uncle's car with a crowbar. My uncle isn't even sorry.

Over MONEY! My brother worked for him over the winter, and my uncle has owed him 500$ since december. He ignores my brother's calls and refuses to pay him. My brother had finally had enough. He needs the money because he is moving to Texas in a few months and needs to put the down payment on a townhouse. And this is what happens.

Fuck everything.

been seein him alottt :)

we're not offish..but then again i dont really care if we ever are or not. im happy being around him, and that's enough for me. everyone knows and gets it, and that is enough.

had a scare today though. the cuts on my leg started to bleed through my jeans in my civ class. got fucking scared, booked it to the bathroom and tried to clean up. i smudged it and told everyone i spilled coffee on my pants. and they all believed it.

I hate what I've become

I've seriously gained so much weight. I hate it. I'm disgusting. Sure, I fit into small sizes, but the scale has gone up and I can see it in my body. I weighed myself today, and I don't even want to post the number. That's how bad it is. I've resigned not to eat for the rest of the day. Maybe not tomorrow either. I need help. I need help so badly. I hate living this life. I feel like it gets less and less worth it every day. I don't know how people find me attractive, even though they tell me that. They must be lying right? Because this body could not possibly be considered anything less then absolutely repulsive. I started cutting again. So much. I have thirty new cuts on my left thigh, and three on my left arm. I'm trying to cut less on my arm because it's getting to be spring time, and with that comes short sleeves. I already have so many noticeable scars. A few days ago D asked me if I had goose bumps so I pulled up my sleeve and the scars were so noticeable. And that was on my right arm, which I haven't even cut since I was 16. Almost 2 years. And they're still fucking there. They're going to be forever. He stopped talking for a split second when he saw, then started again. I know he knows. I didn't want him to. I don't want anyone thinking that I'm anything less than normal. And especially him. Now he probably thinks I'm some weird chick with fucked up problems. If he saw my left arm? God. There's a good 28 scars on there that stick out like a sore thumb. I'm going to start putting make up over them so you can't see them. No one needs to see that. I'm not out to get attention or sympathy. Cutting is something I keep to myself. When I was younger I used to talk about it with some people. My best friend mainly, but she doesn't even talk to me anymore. Her sister used to cut, and she would talk to me about it. But she stopped. Or maybe just stopped talking, like I did. I hope she doesn't anymore. I would never wish this on anyone. The need for self mutilation is sick in my eyes. It's some perverted sense of self hate that no one should ever go through. Please no one cut. Don't do it. If you already do, stop. If you are thinking about it DO NOT MAKE THAT FIRST CUT. If you're stuck in this hole like I am, TELL ME. I am here and I want to make you better, even if I can't fix myself. I want the best for you all.