i didn’t work thursday this week. i haven’t *not* worked a thursday since may. part of me is glad. he’s getting too close. i don’t want to tell him something and then regret it later. i don’t mean that i want a relationship with him because i don’t. i’m lonely.

i promised my therapist that i wouldn’t purge this week. it’s been difficult a few times but perhaps it is worth it. i got a new book that contains the diary entries of a girl with anorexia. she died. sometimes i wish i would go that way. it’s horrible because i know i could easily do that. die by my hand, whether in an indirect manner or not.

i should be glad that i’m alive. and sometimes i am. sometimes it’s great just knowing that i made it and that i’m feeling the best i’ve felt in about five years. then at other times i wish i had died. i would have… i was so close. so fucking close.

i sometimes get so angry serving customers. when they’re rude to me or when they yell at me. i spent most of my earlier years being yelled at. i don’t want to be yelled at anymore.

i broke some glass. just a bottle. i haven’t used any of it. i want a blade, a good one. not a razor blade but those nice utility blades they sell at the store. i don’t know why i want to ‘regress.’ recovery is just so fucking scary. i should be glad i’m not as miserable as i used to be but i’m not. i don’t know who i am anymore or what i should be doing. i work and go to school. somehow it isn’t enough. it’s just not enough.

i can’t say i’m feeling too depressed at the moment. nothing like how it used to be. i don’t know how i feel.

or perhaps not. it all depends on how these next few weeks play out.

i went to see my therapist yesterday. every week i weight myself and she charts my weight. it’s usually been at about 105, with fluctuations. one time down to 97lbs and then up to 107lbs. i weight at about 109lbs now and I feel *fat.* i’m not one of those girls who says ‘i’m fat’ to get the common response ‘you’re not fat.’ i feel that i weigh too much. every time a pair of jeans is too tight i just want to jam my finger down my throat and fix it. just like i used to.

i was a bulimic (sans binging) for about a year. i know what it does to my body. i know that it fucked up my teeth and that it was harsh on my stomach. i still want to go back to it.

my sister told me today i was a pig. i had eaten four breadsticks and she called me a pig. needless to say that made my wavering on the subject more resolute. i’m fat and i can’t deal with that right now. i just don’t know what to do.

i promised my therapist to wait two weeks before deciding to alter my eating habits. i will. i did purge earlier today, though. the first time in a long time. it made me feel better. i felt stronger. i felt that i could take on the world. needless to say that feeling won’t last very long.