I slept until 7:30 pm.
I awoke four times between then and the moment I fell to sleep.
I would wake in this horrid sweat.
Only to find myself spinning and nauseated. 
The amount of blood I'm losing is not normal to me.
It wouldn't scare me if I didn't physically feel this way.
I would wake.
Only to run to the bathroom.
Hoping not to leave a trail.
Shove myself into the bathtub.
And try to hard to keep myself conscious.
My brain has been hazy in this dizz.
My body is limp and weak.
It listens to me.
But it doesn't move correctly.
Like a waddling baby that just learned to walk.

You know, this really reminds me of the time I previously stated.
And during the whole time,
I had no idea what I was doing to myself.
Or I just didn't want to stop, so
I didn't care it was happening.

I awoke in a massive puddle of blood.
And nauseous more than ever before.
I would sit on the toilet seat.
Waiting to stop bleeding.
But I bled and bled.
And my mind buzzed and buzzed.
And I had to keep my legs separated so that I could throw up in between them.
After these episodes.
I would lay in bed.
And that was normal.
Because I was throwing up about six times a day.
When I would eat for a few days.
And then I wouldn't eat much other than a few pieces of fruit.
For about four or five days.
And I never had energy.
I always felt half awake.
And so I lived in my bed.
A starving girl.
Lonely and weird in the head.
But this time.
I would stay in bed.
Because every organ inside of me.
Was in such pain.
Any movement hurt.
If I were to make any organ move.
It would scream in pain.
Sleeping was horrible.
I just literally couldn't move.
I would just lay there and bleed.
And throw up from bleeding.
And eat a piece of fruit.
Or throw up some oatmeal.
Or vegetables.
And this lasted for a month.
I couldn't walk anywhere.
I couldn't leave my house.
Everything hurt.
And Bryan was dating me.
He started to really become concerned with the eating disorder.
He always bugged on it.
But I considered it a part of myself.
And natural.
Something that he had to accept.
But he started to become worried.
And wanted me to go to the doctor.
But I never go to the doctor.

But one night, we take a walk.
To the cement ship.
Half sunken into the sea.
With screaming sea lions.
I had said that on the last day of school.
I would drink my Crystal Head vodka.
And climb onto the ship.
And jump into the freezing water.
I didn't have enough friends to celebrate such a thing.

I was a lonely girl in bed.

So Bry and I walk there, just talking.
But it hurt so much.
I had to walk really slow.
I enjoyed our time there.
He kept pretending to almost fall off the deck.
And it really gave me anxiety.
I saw everything going wrong.
Plus I was a big ball of anxiety crawl.
God, remembering my mind back then.
I was so different.
Twisted in shame.
It just became too much.
It hurt too much.
We had to go back.
And every single step was eating me alive.

He had to put his arm around my shoulder and help me get home.
And I just got home.
Laid there.
Still in pain.
Because no matter what I did.
My organs were screaming.
It came to the point that.
Even if I were to lay still.
Shrieking insides ate me.

I don't remember if it was that specific night.
But after a month.
I decided to stop throwing up my food for a short amount of time.
Only to heal.
A week later.
My insides were perfectly fine.
Well, not so.
But they were as fine as my normal sate.

My insides are still not fine.
I did not realize that two years would destroy a whole entire body that lives for one hundred.

But this is not the same case today.
I don't understand why this is happening to me.
It is nowhere near as severe.
And my insides are fine.
I do monitor my intake.
But I eat healthy when I eat.
And I don't try to starve to death.
I am afraid of food.
But I am not afraid of healthy food.
I would never throw up vegetables.

I would never throw up.

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