It's not that I care what people think.
I don't care about people.
I care what I think.
I go to the beach.
And I don't bother on people staring at my body.
I bother on my body.
It thinks it can do this to me.
And this ordeal of mine.
Is punishment.
I have to look at it.
I don't want to look at it.
People can look and do what they want.
They're stupid, anyway.

But people who are important matter.
The people who have to touch me.
And stare at me as much as I have to see myself.

And he doesn't fucking get it.
And it's getting hard.

Because I am not doing things for  acceptance.
I don't like a lot of people.
So, I don't expect people to like me, either.

I just don't know what's normal.
When I speak,
And I talk about my experiences,
I'm either making fun of myself,
Or just talking.
And then I realize that I just made myself look like a drug addict whore.
It's not attention.
It's oblivious confusion.
I just assume people go through some of the same things.
And realize it's completely twisted.

And I tell stories because they're kind of all I have.
I've only lived a normal life since November.
And I grew up in institutions.
With Staff playing parents.
And this isn't a pity statement.
It's an explanation.

My thinking is off.

And I freak out a lot.
And it's pissing me off.
I'm just annoyed with these moods.
I haven't had them for so long.
And I thought the depression was over once the drugs were.

But maybe it's still there.
It's always been shotty. 

And I can't.
Open myself.
I like.
Get so afraid.

I freeze.

I want to be able to express myself.
But I know if I do,

When they leave me,
I'll be destroyed so much more.

I know I'm already going to be destroyed.
Because these moods are going to get old.
And because I won't play guitar.
And because I don't smoke a lot of weed.
And because I suck at doing my nails.
And because of the eating.
And I can't sing.

And somethings hurt my feelings.
And it's just weird.

Because I was never like this.
My friends always tell me I'm the strongest one.
And I'm always realistic.

But my feelings get hurt now.

He talks saying my vagina is gross.
And He says it's a joke.
But I feel like he wants me to secretly feel bad about it.
Because I think he believes it.
And wants me to fix it.

And I already feel disgusting.
And used.

It's like telling a computer that it's a machine.

I know.

I already know.

And bringing it to my attention.
Just makes me feel more disgusting.

It's like.
You don't joke about a guy telling them that their dick is small.
Same thing.

I'm insecure about certain things.
So, it's just...
He knows that.
So why does he joke about it?

I can joke about most vulgar things and such.
But I'm not going to feel good when it's just simply putting me down.

And no one gets it other than Grace.

I mean,
People know it was bad and dirty.
But they don't know how twisted it was.

The mind.

Look at me complaining.

I wish I wasn't so whiny.

I used to not be so.

My life is so different.

I wish I could just get used to it.

I have no friends.

It's really starting to make me feel horrible.
I'm lonely.
I want friends so bad.
 But I don't like so many people.
Where do I meet people?
I think you hang out with people.
And meet their friends.
And make friends with their friends.
And friends of their friends.


No one wants to show me their friends.



Thought I was going to be depressed for a long time.

I found out.
That I had.
A lingering.
Of what I used to be.
Still inside of me.

I can't really get myself to say it even here.

A disease.

And it's been sitting inside of me for six months.

My fucking rotting corpse of a body.

And I painted it on him.
And I cried on the train.
As some guy stared at me across the way.

I listened to angry music to numb my brain.
It went well.
Staring out windows for hours.

I had to write my brain somewhere.
And all I had was my book.
So I wrote in the back of it.

I felt like her.

And I was certain that he would leave.
And he asked if he would be angry.
And I told him he would.
He asked if he should even come over.
And I said he should.
I feel selfish when I have him come over.

He thought I betrayed him.

But I would just never.

It was weird with one friend.
I felt like he just wanted to touch me all night.
And I just kept thinking of him.
And with the other friend,
I've always known he wanted to.
And then my best friend.
He and I went to smoke on the bluffs above the river.
And I met this friend from a long time ago.
He looks at my best friend and asks if he is my boyfriend.
I tell him no.
And he once again looks at my best friend and says "You don't want to bang this?"
And he said nothing.
And later that night,
We were laughing about it.
And I said something about how he would never because he knows me.
And because I act like such a dope in front of him.
And then he told me he's still sexually attracted to me.
But he would never ruin the friendship.
And he wonders what it would change if we had sex.

I don't want that.
In my mind.
Or his mind.

I don't want that.
I want people to just be.
My fucking friends.
And stop.

I always want sex.
I always think about sex.
But I have friends.
And I do not want to have sex with them.
And I know.
That If I can do that.
Anyone can.
I don't care if they are boys.
They can make the decision to be my friends.
And not think about me that way.

I answered the door in a towel.
And changed in front of him.
Because I don't care.
Because he's my best friend.
And I thought his feelings were gone by now.

I don't want to be tested.
It seems like when I'm around people.
They're always testing me.
To see if I would break my loyalty.

It's just like a piece of plastic that keeps poking you.
And irritating your skin.

And that's why I want him to go to parties with me.
Because I want to enjoy my time with him.
I'll be inebriated.
And I think about him when I'm inebriated.
And third,
When any boy looks at me,
I will simply put my arm on his shoulder.
And kiss his cheek.
And then the night will just be about smiling.
And friends.
And lovers.

I had him come over.
Because I wanted him to have the medicine.
And I knew if he was going to leave me,
I wanted him to take everything and leave.
Rather than have to come back and leave.
And I would have to see him.
Leave once again.

But he was so nice.
I just.
Don't know what to say.
He was just so nice.
And made me feel okay.

And he was just so nice.

And there's this one thing.
That I'm never going to say.
I am just a fool.
And I think too much.

Things just seem to be acclimating in such a positive manner.

Two days ago,
I looked in the mirror.
And I liked my body.
And I watched it move.
And it seemed.
It seemed like.
Someone could love it.
I think I might have.

And after some more work.
I will love it again.
I think I'm at least half comfortable right now.

It was weird.
He called me.
While I was gone.
And we talked.

I don't very much have conversations on the phone.
Other than Melissa.

I told him not to read this.
And if you are,
Then you are sleeping on the deck tonight,
You piece of worthless shit.


He told her.
And, I understand that she'd be hurt.
And it kind of happened all the wrong way.
But it happened.
And I.

Like, shit happens.
And she should know.
If she was with him for so long.
That sometimes, he probably does things the wrong way.
But has no poor intentions.
He wasn't trying to hurt her.

She's very upset about the sex.
And she calls it fucking.

And thinks I am a coke head whore drug addict waste.
Which is interesting.

I wonder if I still come off as who I used to be to people.

Relationships seem to be so twisted.
And complicated.
And I don't think it really has to be that way.
I think that people get lost in emotions.
And don't understand reality.
People should just.
Calm down and listen.
If she listened,
She would understand him.
And she would understand the situation.
And then they could be friends.
And then both of them could be happy.
And she wouldn't hurt so much.

And I feel bad.
Because she still really likes him.
And she didn't expect this to happen.
But she turned it into a game.
And she left him.
And expected him to come to.

And that's what happens when you don't communicate.

She wanted more than he was giving.
But what she didn't realize was that he was slowly growing away.

She should have just spoken to him.
Rather than play this leaving him game.
And then she wouldn't have put herself in such a harmed state.

And if she just spoke to him,
She would realize that he is confused.
That this whole situation has been heavy on him since it started.
And that he's been feeling horrible about it.
Because he knew that it would hurt her.
But he really didn't want it to.

And she's yelling at him for lying.
And being deceitful.

But I think she was, too.
With this game that she lost.
Games are deceit.

They are manipulative.

And I understand that a two year relationship is a lot.
And a big deal.
But, from what I know of people's lives,
Long term relationships end often.
And it's really sad when they do,
But lives go in different directions.
And she's going to college in Berkeley.
And the boys in Berkeley and San Fransisco are great.
I have met many of them.
And from what I know of her,
I know that she'll find someone very intelligent and fresh.
And she will be happy.
And maybe then she will understand.

I don't really have someone to talk to about this.
Melissa will get bored of this topic in a couple minutes.
And then start talking about her boyfriend.

I was okay about this,
but it kind of makes me mad.
Because he's a very nice boy.
And everything is just pure.
And I think she knows that.

And I know that he would feel bad about it all.
And it's kind of right that he does.
Not that he's a bad person, or deserves that,
but just because the situation sucks.
And if he felt nothing,
That would very much disrespect the relationship he had with her.

But she's just destroying how he feels about himself.
And he already thinks he's just a machine.
And pointless.
And thinks he's failing a lot of people of what they want him to be.

And I don't think a lot of people are giving him positive suppourt.
His mother is Latin.
Just like Russians, I would suppose that they are nurturing in a very strict way.
And it's really hard for first generation children to be understood by their parents.
Especially ones grown up in America....
I mean.

First of all,

What a god damned country.

It took my mother a long time to understand what was normal here.
And that this country is more...... Em.
More emotional?
And more weak?
And more.

And she's just telling him horrible things about him.
And his friend.
I can just tell that he really looks up to him,
but he sometimes resents him.
Because his friend really wants a girlfriend.
And He just went from one relationship to the other.
And I understand his friend.
Because that's how I was with Grace.
I loved her, but I was very jealous of her.
Because she had all I wanted.
And He can play instruments well.
And he's very creative.
And sure of who he is.
And his friend is insecure.
He's a very sweet boy, but I think that he's a lot more sensitive.
And he just needs to understand that
sometimes, it takes a while to find someone.
And you don't just go for anyone.

I think that his friend deserves someone really good for him.
And someone that will teach him things.
And make his life more and more positive.
But he just has to be patient.

I had to be patient.
And it was worth it.
And I knew that it would be.

I'm just rambling.
And repeating things in different ways over and over.

I want to be more brave with this relationship.
And I don't want to be stuck in all of my fears forever.

And I have to remember that this whole body thing can continue.
But it can not control my happiness.
Which it started to again.

I found a couple of my old websites.
And I just can not believe that I used to be that person.
And bluntly attention seeking.
And I bragged so much about my drug use.

I forgot how much I did when I was thirteen.
I didn't know I was that crazy.

I don't know how I thought that those things were okay.

And I don't really know why I exposed myself sexually so much so young.
And it was like I thought it was normal.
And okay.
And expected.

And the amount of substances I consumed.

I can't even handle those now.
What the fuck.

It's just so weird to think about who I used to be up until October.
That person scares me.
I can never.
Go back there.

I want her erased.

My vomiting is scaring me.

I wasn't hungry, 
But I had some cheese and triscuits.
I attempted to vomit them,
But I think my body is starting to try and keep it's food again.

I got what I could out.
And then I had some berries.
And some warm milk.
Which made me feel sick.
So I vomited that.

And, it's just like.

I'm vomiting milk.......

What that fuck am I doing.

I had to talk myself out of vomiting strawberries this morning.

It's just becoming.
I don't know.
It's fucking with my mind.

I don't know what is normal eating anymore at all.
I really want to stop vomiting.
I want to just eat little.
But I do that already, I feel.
And I still vomit.

Vomiting is really.
It's really traumatizing on my body.
And I've wanted to stop for a couple weeks.
But then I start freaking out.
And it wasn't this hard to quit before.

But I need to.

I feel stupid.
He sits there on the bed.
I go vomit.
And when I come out, he asks if I threw up.
And I can just tell he's disappointed.
And vomiting is so dramatic.
And it's annoying.
And it causes a lot more attention than just eating little.

I want to make him feel better.
But it's very hard for me to be nurturing.
And I feel like I take a lot in this relationship.
And I'm just going to work on making him feel cared about.


What the fuck.

Where did my soul go.

Why am I emotionless.

I cried all day.


I take so much.
And I don't give enough.
And I talk about it.
But I don't do it.

I need to meet people.
I suck.

At meeting people.

I need to go to parties.

I know of no parties.


I am sick of this.
I am so fucking suck of this.
Why can't.
My body.
Just be like every one else's.

Why do I have to throw up.
And live on apples and tomatoes.
And I'm not even as thin as normal people.

I'm so fucking mad right now.
I feel lost int this body.
I just want to step outside of it.
And beat it.
And I want it to understand.
Stop being such.
Just so.
Fucking worthless.

Well, no.


I know I'm not worthless anymore.
I just feel like it tonight.
I threw up, but I don't feel empty.
And it's hard.
When your best friend.
Who's been anorexic for years.
Kind of.
Has been messing up.
And I've looked up to her habits forever.
And now that she's messing up,
I'm confused?


This situation.

But, That will appear later.


I'm going to be better to him.
He does everything.
And isn't afraid.
So, I shouldn't be, either.

I feel like I'm just selfish in this relationship.
I just lay there.
And dead.
And he comes with farmer's market groceries.
And I complain about food.
And he eats food.

And I just bitch.

I just have to have everything in it's specific way.
I guess it's okay if certain things don't go certain ways.
I'm just afraid of losing control.
And I find it in the little things.
But I don't have control in the bigger things.
I guess by having control and organization and consistence in these things,
I feel it makes up for the big fuck ups I always do.
But, it doesn't.
At all.
And, so.
Maybe I can have little fuck ups.
And big control.
Instead of big fuck ups.
And little control.


This... thing.
That some are calling an eating disorder.
I really think it's more simple that everyone thinks.
And not as bad.

Three this week have.
Become worried, or so.
Mel claims if I continue, I'll be hospitalized.
Drey says she's disappointed I'm drowned in these worries.
And that it's really bad.

After this one session.
Which I don't understand I did.
I just had a piece of bread and cheese.

And I couldn't even handle that.
Because it was bread and cheese.
Despite the amount.

And he was just upset.

And He told me it was selfish.
And I know it's selfish.

But I want him to be proud when I meet people he knows.
And I want my parents to be proud when they introduce me to people who matter.
And my brother to his friends.
And my friends to their friends.

And I want to be proud.
When I meet people.
I want to be worth something.
And I know it's not my body that creates it.
I know it's who I am that is important.

But I already like who I am.
And I'm just creating perfection.
Which I know is impossible.


But I just want.
To try.
I'm eighteen.

This is my peak.

I'm going to have.


There is so much.
And I'm nauseous.
And sometimes.
I get dizzy.
And I don't know if I can walk.

And I'm not very afraid.
Because it's a good thing.
But when I sit on the toilet,
And it just swims out.
And then I vomit in between my legs.

He's being nice about it, though.
He makes me feel okay.


Too much.

I feel weak.

She's on the phone.
And I keep going dizzy.
And I can't talk for a second.
And she knows what's going on.

But she keeps talking.
And I keep fixing.