I'm so broken girls. And I'm not talking about my finger - yeah, I broke my finger last Tuesday, hence the lack of posts. My inside is so very, very broken. A broken butterfly. I can't fly. I'm too fat for that. All I can do is lay here on the floor, when I ended up when trying to take of, to fly away from this world, and hope no one steps on me. I'm surprised my x-rays didn't show cracks in my entire hands, 'cause I feel like every single little piece of me has fallen apart, like there's nothing left to hold me up.
I feel like there's no need for me here. Everything I do, it's useless. No matter what I do, no matter how much I put myself into it - all the tears, all the sweat I ever spill - it ends up as just another insignificant waist of effort. I'm not sure how long I can take this, this insignificance, this waist. I'm waisting away. Not literally of course, 'cause when was I ever really able to keep my big mouth shut and my self-control up? But on the inside... I'm dying, and nobody sees it. I'm falling apart, breaking a little more every day, and still, people think I'm fine. Nobody really cares.
So many people knows about my scars, my battles. Parents, friends, teachers. They all say they're here for me, advising me, telling me to get some help. But where are they all, when my world falls apart? When I'm sitting alone in my room, crying, bleeding?
No one. No one is there for me.
81,4 kg/179,5 lbs this morning. Not - Good - Enough.
This has got to stop. I can't go on eating this much. Bulimia was never supposed to be my method. Starving is alright. But this constant purging... I can't take it. It's so easy. So simple. It doesn't hurt. And you don't have to hold back for nothing. But I can't go on like this. I have to stop eating. I have to lose weight, instead of just maintaining around the same 3 digits all the time. I have to starve. To feel the pain. To count the calories. It has been so long. I need it. I need to go back to it. I need control. I will have it. I will have control.
The nurse at the hospital, a very cute young man - kind of reminding me about Kevin Alejandro, actually - saw my arm when he had to clean the wound on my finger. He asked me "Did you hurt your arm too? What happened?". My mom and Nicolaj looked at me, and then my mom told him "No, it's nothing" at the same time I did.
Nothing happened to me, you're right mom. Just close your eyes and pretend nothing happened. Your little girl doesn't cut, she doesn't throw up your food. Sure, you hear her tell you so herself, but why take it seriously? No, just pretend nothing ever happened, that's right. That's easier, I'm sure.
I can't wait for the day something finally happens. The day someone finds me unconscious, dying. I can't wait for the day they'll be holding my lifeless body in their arms, finally, finally crying for me. And it'll be too late. They won't be able to go back and make it all not happen. They won't be able to do anything, while the doctors are fighting to save my life.
This is the dark corner of me, the one no one ever sees.
They'll never know.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
I know this isn't what most of you want to see.
You won't know what to say. You'll be disgusted, just by reading it.
But this is my blog. This is what I made it for.
I don't expect anyone to cheer about that. But it's the truth.
I don't want to hurt you girls.
You are the only ones I have.
The only ones who knows, who understands.
And if there's any feeling left in me at all, you are the ones to make me feel it.
Love. There's still love in me.
I love you girls. Really.
I'll write you soon. Really. I'm getting better with the finger and all.
Until next time girls, take care.
Stay strong, think thin, be beautiful!
- Bella ♥