weighed myself yesterday and ha ha ha 69, although that was after eating/drinking so it’s likely to be closer to 67ish, but that’s irrelevant.
exercised for 20 minutes, which is pathetic I know but whatever, it’s better than nothing.
tried to throw up what I could. I couldn’t. so I took 6 laxatives instead and downed a litre of water.
stayed up till almost-sunrise, like 4.30/5am, again. ugh. but I didn’t get up to b/p which I guess is good.
probably going to try and start exercising a lot. like. a lot. because I’m disgusting and I hate myself and at least exercise is better than taking scissors to the tops of my thighs (they’re healing up at least. good thing blood makes me pass out or I’d probably have required stitches because I could easily have gone deep enough).
Breakfast: coffee, mother = 236
Lunch: carrot = like 60/70? duno
Dinner: looking like soup at this point, less than 400 I think? very, VERY likely to be purged and followed by a handful of laxatives though
yep
haaaa
I went well over a year, in fact it may even have been two, without cutting and the other day I just picked up some scissors and started making incisions on the top of my thighs and I haven’t stopped since.
woopsies
my ribs and my hips were pretty visible for a while there and I have no idea how long ago that was. it would’ve been months.
I’m binging and purging constantly and not eating for days and binging like mad and I just wish I were dead. I’m wasting so much fucking money. fuck.
I want to take a knife like a paint brush and use my body as a canvas with my blood as the paint and paint a pretty picture all over my arms and legs and chest and face.
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