I have returned to this furthered addiction of bending my spine until it turns into that of the spikes you find upon the back of a dinosaur.
I am inevitably swollen as I stare at my face with puffed up crying eyes and a nose drenched with this vomitous bile somehow my jaw isn't as sharp immediately immediately I regret this.
My throat has been bleeding for two weeks you think that I'd quit you think that I'd quit after the first time I saw it swimming in the water contained by the toilet staring at me goosebumps growing and growing up the back of my neck I am ruining myself.
The scabs on my fingers from kitten nails singe with a burning fire from the acidic paste that sprays into this porcelain pot in which you're meant to either piss or shit in but not to throw up and throw up just because you're getting so obsessed with food that you become so gluttonous you eat and chug water in between each bite so that you can gag it out much easier.
But it's not easy it's getting worse my body is fighting.
I had to go through two sessions yesterday.
And the look on my face afterwards is that of a boxer after a match with such swollen eyes.
I'm beating myself up.
And why. There's nothing going wrong I just got back deep in the spin I'm addicted I'm fucking addicted.
This past year was the best, but this recent stretch of time is showing me that five years have passed, and I am never going to fucking get over this, am I.
Nothing good is going to come my way if I'm destroying myself.


I don't really like Liza anymore.


I woke up hungover and just kept vomiting and vomiting bile.
I coughed up blood again.

I'm worried about my stomach.

I'm trying to leave the country this winter.


I guess if you force yourself on a boy, he won't say no. 
But that has no weight onto whether he actually wanted that or not.