| Jul. 23rd, 2006 @ 01:43 am Dunno? |
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Current Mood:  indescribable
I never use this, and neither does anyone else, and nobody reads this. BUUT I really need to vent and since Myspace is fucked up, I'll do it here. It's good nobody reads this since I'm about to be very blunt. Laxatives suck. I am going relaly up and down. Doign well for a week or so, then I take them once and I'm screwed for a little while, taking them often. And then go back to off for about 1.5-2 weeks. So needless to say my stomach hurts like hell. I'm sick of this. Sick of this addiction to laxatives, but also sick of this addiction to killing myself. Like literally, I'm addicted to risking my life. I purposely try to make myself sick from laxatives and starving to the point where I'm close to an ER visit. I make every inch of my body hurt and wait until I absolutely cant stand it anymore before I eat again. My legs were desintegrated the other day it felt like. I know exactly why... it was the muscle deteriorating. My body feeding off my legs. My thighs mostly. And I loved it of course. I loved that it was hard to walk, I loved knowing my thighs would soon be twigs, I loved that when I stood up to go see the blazer my mom bought, and I was so lightheaded I couldnt even see the blazer. She doesnt even wear blazers. I love when my chest hurts, I love when I get out of control palpitations. I lvoe falling on the floor. I pretend that I hate it, I pretend that I hate doing this to myself, but part of me doesnt hate it or I would have stopped. The addiction doesnt just lie in the laxatives. It lies in everything. Starving. The pain, the risk, the draining of my life from my body, the flattness of my stomach, the bones, the numbers dropping. My collar bones popping out of my neck more and more. I only even took them today because my stomach hurt so bad. SO I took 15 Dulcolax. I dunno if that's even gonna be enough. I hope so. I really dont want to go through what I did before. Tuesday is my gastric emptying scan. I just pray that it comes up positive so they can finally put an end to this pain I have, and the hideousness of what I see in the mirror. I really miss.... I fucking miss cutting. Like hell. Shit I'd go back to it if I were miserable enough and/or my scars would fucking fade at least a LITTLE BIT. But they dont. I just really miss stuff. It's pathetic, but I miss... like... ok nobody reads this and I'm being bluntly honest. I miss being angry. I miss being cynical, and I miss being psychotic. In a way that is... not completely. I actually feel weak when I am happy, or half happy, or simply depressed, or just anorexic and scared to be fat. Like I miss being angry, and rageful, and hateful, and fuckin bulimic. Shit I WOULD be the conventional bulimic if I could puke. But really, laxatives and fasting dont cut it after bingeing first of all, and second, the laxatives are killing me... meaning they are too stressful. It's not cool when its to a point where I take them and shit for 24hrs straight, feelng like I have a stomach bug. I'll never be able to get over my emetophobia though. Which is a good thing for everyone else, who wants me to get better, who wants me to live, and be happy. But I sorta dont. Like I said, I feel weak when I'm happy. So I basically almost sabotage myself. I push people away, ruin relationships, cut myself, starve myself, lax myself, you know, the usual. But I am sorta happy right now. I just wonder... if I could get my stmoach fixed, I might be able to be... well... I dunno. Right now, it's like I cant even get out of bed, or move because my stomach hurts so much and because I'm hideous. I want to be hot and angry is what I want. So maybe when my stomach is better I can get out of this blank depression/strive for happniness and go back to hating. Unfortunatly not able to trigger psychosis for myself. Unless I got into drugs that is, but 2 things of unhappiness I truly dont like are panic attacks, which drugs WILL cause, my stomach being huge, and shitting. Sooooo... see when I used to be angry and psychotic, I didnt fucking need friends, or Jamie, or anybody. I had demons, satanic elves, visions of suicide, and razors to get me thorugh agoraphobia. Which is another thing I hate, agoraphobia. I dont like being STUCK in my house 24/7. Not cool. I raelly and exaggerating a lot of this. And it's really just reflecting my current mood which changes every 20 minutes. Anyway, I also didnt have such a severe stomach problem... I mean... I did. But laxatives were easier to handle and the dependancy wasnt as strong. So if I wanted to get rid of what I ate, it was no thang. I'm still waiting. I took them like 3 hours ago and I'm gettign scared that they wont work. Maybe I should down the rest of my correctol and a few ex lax. I dont even know. I hate this. If the doctors dont fix my stomach I'm gonna cut him AND myself. I cant feel this anymore, I cant see it anymore. It's killing me. I just remember..... I fucking remember one specific day last spring. At the apartment, by myself. One minute I was sitting and crying and hating my stomach. The next minute, shit was broken, and thrown all over the apartment, and I was on the floor twitching. Obviously had some sort of rage epsiode trigger specifically by my stomach. It was like... Isabelle Vaudelle's aerial contortion in silk I think. What happened to me. What I probably looked like. Breaking stuff. I'm glad I gained control over that, and I'm glad I still have control over that, even off meds. But I dunno... I just miss being like an angry bulimic cutter who wore tight clothes and left the house, interacted with people, hiding my secrets, scaring the hell out of them. Which at the time, I thought was painful. Now I'm just a depressed anorexic old scar boy who wears baggy clothes and lays in bed crying. This is pain. |
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