I know I did the "normal" thing to give myself a break.
I did consider the great why of it, and have decided that it is because of the basic survival instinct built into the DNA of all living creatures on this Earth.
Doesn't change a thing. I feel fat, dirty and big. And unworthy and a failure. I shouldn't have done it. I hate myself so much. I keep thinking "If I hadn't done it, i'd be clean, empty, successful right now. I wish I didn't do it." I feel so fat.
I might not be officially diagnosed or anything. But my discomfort and guilt at eating are genuine in all senses of the word and immensely so. I DO see myself as fat, unworthy, and that my body is dank and to widely expanded.
My chin- I swear that piece of shit- has gotten much saggier today. My arms, I can feel their deadweights.
Eating normally for a single day has left me feeling very, very, very heavy. I feel as if a fresh, extraordinarily thick layer of gelatin has been inserted underneath my skin today.
So, so sleepy.
Finished a book today- Nothing Lasts Forever by Sidney Sheldon. I love him already. Couldn't put the damn thing down.
Really, why give in to a momentarily pleasurable activity I can do without- eating- when it makes me feel so much guilt and self-hatred? I mean really, so what about the osteoporosis and hair-loss and the depression and all that?
I'd rather face that than the intense, virulent self-hatred that corrodes and ravages me if I do eat "normally" and allow myself to be fat.
It's not worth it. I alone am more dangerous and scary than all the side-effects of self-starvation.
I am in crazy love with: Nirvana
Zachary Quinto (I've had a crush on him for forever, now he's gay, I like him more)
Karen Carpenter
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