every once in a while, as we're walking along this road that begins in life and ends in death, we hit an obstacle. a fallen tree to climb over. a branching path to choose or ignore. a storm to hide from.
this week i was caught by my mother, chewing and spitting. since then i have been torn between my fear of getting caught, my desperation to be thin, and a nagging part of me that just wants to say, "fuck it."
i have been eating "normally" since i got caught. as i lay in bed at night still succumbing to the same routine of pinching and prodding my fat as i lay awake staring into darkness, i debate whether to fast the next day. some nights i decide yes, others no. either way, i wake up the next morning and end up fixing some scrambled eggs or cereal. i'm not binging, and from the times i've checked i'm not gaining, but i'm not losing and i'm not happy.
knowing my mother will be keeping a close eye on me from now on, i don't know whether to stay with ana or take a leave of absence until i move out. i know that when i go to college and turn 18 i'll be buying every diet pill known to man and taking advantage of the fact that i'd have to walk across campus to get a bite to eat. but for now, in high school, living at home, it's difficult.
i'll still be blogging, because ana will always be a part of me. i just don't know if i'll be able to live the life i dream about anymore. i miss it. i miss the control. i hate that, one by one, the few things in life that kept me sane are being taken away from me. as i've started eating again, my mood swings have come back worse than ever. i go from laughing and perfectly fine to laying in bed, unable to move, depressed beyond comprehension for no particular reason. i hate what's happening to my life. i hate what's happening to me.
stay strong, think thin, live ana. live ana for me, because i can't.
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