I fucked up again today :(

Binged and purged three times, only slight cutting, and am still awake even though I get up in three hours.  But I'm too afraid to go to bed again because I feel so damn guilty and am worried about waking up tomorrow and being excessively roll y poll y.  I really need to stop punishing myself by not allowing sleep because when you sleep you can't eat...and I think it boosts your metabolism.

Anyway, I just thought I'd toss in a short post of my thoughts before going to pack up to go home tomorrow (or rather, in several hours)...and I want to clean my apartment, too.  I think that will get my mind off of things, and I only work until noon tomorrow and then can take a nap or something.  Ugh, misery.

Seriously, why do I fuck myself over like this?  *Irritated*

A little yellow

I know I went on and one yesterday about how I wanted help and how much I wished I could get it...I wasn't lying but like I said, I'm too much of a coward.  Asking for help means acknowledging that there's actually a problem.  So here I am sitting at the kitchen table, refusing to go to bed, having binged and purged four separate times in the past five or six hours, and literally watching blood dripping down my arm onto the kitchen table.  Yep.  I have no problems at all...no fucking problems...

Right now my focus is kind of on the fact that I ate so much shit and the guilt is weighing heavily on me.  I'm jut hoping and praying that if I do well today and tomorrow then Friday will be like last night never happened.  I think it takes two good days to make up for one day of a bad binge, but we'll see, I suppose.  At least since I didn't sleep, when I get home from work in sixteen hours, I can go straight to bed and pass out.  No late night bingeing to make up for being alone and bored out of my fucking mind.  I apologize for my ridiculous language in this post, but I'm pissed off at myself, if that isn't obvious.  I was doing so well, and you know when you fail one day and feel as tough all your hard work has been ruined?  It doesn't matter that my clothes will probably only be slightly tighter tomorrow or that my stomach might just be bloated, I still feel as though I've gained fifty pounds and like everyone will notice.  So to make up for my binge(s), I will just continue to wreak havoc on my arm because I deserve it.  I did just get fresh blades yesterday so I might as well make use of them.  And I'm not gonna lie, the red color is rather pretty...as sick as that sounds.  Weird that it comes from my own body.  This is another ones of those moments that I just feel a little disconnected from myself.  I'm not violent and my apparent fascination with my own blood only extends to my own being, but...slightly disturbing, I guess.

Thanks for all your support by the way.  I wish it could actually spur me to do something, but I worry that maybe I'm really just normal and making things seem like a concern when they're not.  This is probably why I need an outside opinion  someone to tell me that I need to seek help because this isn't right.  Otherwise, I'm going to remain in my dark, little world until I can't take it anymore.  It's just a question of what happens first.

Disturbing

I wrote a good four pages of thoughts while in Panera today in between shifts at work.  I'm not going to type up what it was because I'm not planning on reading it...I know for a fact that what I wrote was disturbing, mainly centered on suicide and on my confusion about life in general.  All in all, I'd rather pretend that I wasn't the one who wrote it.  Honestly, I write disturbing things all the time (most of which I keep to myself and never post on here), and when I read it (if I read it), it feels as though someone else wrote it.  Re reading my random musings always freaks me out, and I'd much rather remain blissfully ignorant to my creepy thoughts.  Sure, I am aware of what I'm writing at the time, but there's something different about writing it down as it comes to mind than looking back on it.  It's hard to explain.

Similarly, watching shows like Intervention scares the hell out of me.  There was one about a girl who was cutting herself, and I couldn't even watch the preview.  Seeing it on tv like that makes me squirm and think about how wrong it really is...and yet, I keep doing it.  I tell myself, "I'm not like that," but I think that may only be because it's different when you see things through your own eyes instead of from the outside.  But I don't look like those girls either.  Most of them have really dark undereye circles, never wear make up, and all around don't take care of themselves; I do.  I wear makeup, strut around in fancy clothes, do my hair, wear perfume, and try to cover imperfections.  Maybe that's why I do such a good job of hiding my problems by hiding everything on the outside; but the problem with these girls, I suppose, isn't what they look like or their apparent lack of style but their actual mental states.  And that is what we have in common...unfortunately.

Here I am, though, pretending that I'm perfectly normal, but if someone took one look at the things I write in my personal journals and on scrap pieces of paper that I hide in my room, then I think I would quickly find myself in a psych ward.  Is it possible to have a serious problem and never be helped?  Or is that how people wind up dead?  I don't know.  I can't say I don't want to die because that's kind of a lie, but I can't help but wonder sometimes if I'm really doomed to be forever lonely and forever in misery, even if it's my own fault for being in this position.  I'm not a bitter person because it's been my problem all along and no one else forced this on me...and maybe that's why I feel like help would be nice sometimes.  It's too bad I'm too scared to ask for it.

A Thousand Questions

Do you ever get so confused that you can't tell what is up and what is down?  Do you ever have so much trouble focusing, finding your vision blurring within the first two seconds of gazing at an object?  Do you ever find yourself lost in yourself and feeling like you're just living in a dream?  Or maybe a nightmare?  I do.

I've been so confused these past few days and have been trying hard to lock myself up within and ignore the world around me.  I do this a lot and succeed in forgetting the outside world completely.  When I'm nervous or anxious about something, I just pretend like it doesn't exist and ignore he problem, not bothering to find a solution.  But I work tomorrow, so I suppose reality is going to hit me when I find myself having to deal with people again and an actual routine.  I think I need people around me in order to stay grounded because otherwise I just get a little lost.  Yet, at the same time, I like to be by myself because other people just don't understand me.  Maybe I just don't like the fact that it's good for my well being to socialize on occasion, but then again, when do I ever like things that are healthy for me?

My post today is short, strange, and a little all over the place.  My brain is just having trouble focusing because of too much bingeing/purging it the past few days.  You know how intentionally reversing natural direction of food through body tends to muddle the brain.  So I'm going to bed since I have to get up early for work, and I'm hoping that I will be more inspired, more in tune with myself, and possibly less manic tomorrow.  We shall see, I suppose.