Delicate

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd

I miss running in the high grass. I miss climbing trees. The heart which seemed tempting to escape from my chest. The high grass and weeds scratching the soft skin. As a child trees were the only places I felt to belong to. I used to reach the top, harmonically moving between branches and leaves. When you climb a tree (specially if the branches are pretty tiny as the ones I used to climb on) you gotta be careful with every single move you make. I've never been afraid of heights. And when I climbed I didn't even give me the time to see where I had to go. What were the right steps. I could feel it. I loved trees and still do it now, even if it has gotten hard to find a proper tree. Being a huge ball of lards had a lot of cons, indeed.  One of the things I liked the most was that nobody could come and take me off that. I could spend hours on that. I used to bite my hand when the hunger came. I knew that getting off, going home, would have hurt me again.

Trees have never let me fall.

People constantly leave me, and I constantly found a deeper whole to bury my self into. 

Went out to eat with my parents today. Glad I stayed under 500 cals in the past 2 days. Gonna fast for 2 days. It's not just a matter of weight itself. I'm just finding myself very tired of eating.

The whole thing is getting quite boring.



Just got back home from a party. A tragedy, really. Not really for the food. I know I managed to stay without getting any. It's just...people. I'm tired of seeing people. Tired of feeling their eyes on my fat. Tired of hearing their judgements in my head. Tired of feeling sick walking past a mirror, realising how disgustingly I look next to the other girls.

And I'm tired of trying. Tired to get things better.

Had my last latin speech yesterday. I didn't want to do it. I don't want to do anything but dieing lately. I go trough moments of deep depression when I feel really about to make it and moments or pure ecstasy, well I feel responsible for the people I met, and consider that I can't simply kill my self like this and expect that nothing as all has ever happened.

Brotherhood is really the only thing I think it's worth living for.

I feel so afraid. I can hardly keep my eyes opened. Nobody seems to notice my watery eyes though. I still don't cry, but I constantly try to force me to vomit, during my classes. I just feel too sick, sitting there. Everything sounds so vain to me. So predictable. So futile. So useless. And so easy to get forgotten. And I find myself feeling like forgetting to live. The world around me, so swarming of spring life, speaks a language I don't know anymore.

I think a part of me still wants to be saved.

But another one, I still don't know how much predominant, is tired of begging for help.

"Mary...Mary...please look at me"

My latin and greek teacher looks like the younger and better looking version of Robert de Niro. His hair is darker though and his eyes have a great shade of light brown, which at the sun's light can get green or amber. His smile is one of the sweetest thing ever, and the thing that he's worried for me makes his attempt to smile even sweeter.

I had run outside the school. Couldn't breathe there. Lighted a cigarette just to calm down and to feel like busy doing something. He must have seen me. Cause at one point I looked around and he was there, looking for me.

"I want that smile of your back". I can't see lies in his eyes. But maybe it's just cause I don't want to see them.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry so bad against his jumper. Holding him tight, begging him not to let me go. But I kept my fists closed, bit my lips and didn't say a word. Went silently back to my class.

I sit alone. Nobody wants to sit next to me. I am half out of the window, because breathing is getting such a hard work, and I look at the roofs of the building, trying to imagine random people jumping from there.

I'm not sure this is what I want, though.

Changed completely the blog's look, yeah.

It's not that I didn't like the previous one, but it was...heavy.

I want to turn my pain, my anguish in something better, in something pure.

I'm tired of being dragged into despair.

I want it to be something that gives me strength.

And Harmony.

I'm tired of feeling dirty and inappropriate.

Of being intrusive.

I wanna be like a soft breeze moving little pale flowers.

I want to be like a kiss on the forehead.

Like a caress.

Like a music.

More than beautiful, which sounds still too profane as concept,

more than perfect (I don't believe in universal concepts).





I want to be

Delicate

Thank you "hiding*ED" and "WaitingForRepairs" for being my new followers =) Really, really thanks.

Answers to the comments

Alice May: Ehy darling. Thank you for being always here. I dunno what I'd do without your care and your support, really. For the self-harm:yeah I guess I will have to try to stay without cutting now that summer is coming (and especially when I'll be with my boy). Hope I'll have you strength!And hope I'll manage to respect the diet. Today I didn't, but I'm going trough 3 days of fasting, hoping that it would be enough to fix it. then the day after I'm gonna take just a milkshake made of 1 apple and 1 banana and then start again with the 3th day of abc. hope it will work! Good luck to you too dear. Love you xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx



130 lbs...

I don't know what to do.
130 lbs.
When did this happen? How could I leave this happen?
I don't know what to do, really.
I just want to cry so bad.
I can't help gaining weight. It just doesn't stop.
I feel so devastated.

I'm not going to eat anything, although I could still take more than 250 calories.
No way.

B=yogurt(70)
L=Simmental (70)+ 100g peas( 80)+ 100g mushrooms (22)
Tot=242

worked out...yeah. but I guess it doesn't help. last week I was 125. how could I have gained 5 pounds?? I haven't even binged.


I wish I had a fucking gun. Maybe cause it's the only thing I haven't tried to kill myself with yet.



_____________________________________



Now I made another mess. I was very upset and depressed for my weight and got the frustration out in the worst way ever: with my boyfriend. Now I was pissed cause he got stuck with some silly stuff on the internet and when it's a mission to see each other also through web come because of the jet lag, you want to take as much as possible from every second of it. And well how this started was really stupid, seriously. He pretended to be jealous for my "crush" on my history and philosophy teacher (yeah I'm a fucking attention addicted) and somehow the conversation turned into a kind of argument. More a monologue actually, where I ended up saying that I wanted to leave him hence he ended up vomiting like crazy and I ended up feeling the monster I am and he ended up feeling extremely guilty and I ended up telling him that he doesn't have to think about that cause I'm just a sick deranged fat girl who can't lose weight and has a problem with food and he, of course, is sure now that it's all his fault, although he knows that it can't be cause I've hated my body and had a problem with food since I was a child. And I had one angry binge on, but I kept on peas and mushrooms and I feel a freaking monster cause I'm happy that i kept on that (although I shouldn't have...but at least i only got other 100 calories so I'm still under 500) where I should be feeling COMPLETELY a shit for what I've done. You can't imagine how sensitive is this guy here. But I know. So I should think about it, before acting as a jerk. And now he's not answering to my messages and I feel extremely sick and destroyed. As if someone burnt my soul and now it looks pretty much like a great landscape after loads of lava covered it. Why can't I be a better person???? 

I don't want to occupe all this space anymore

This is how I feel. And, yeah, probably am. Like this, if not worse.

How creepy, isn't it?

Stuck at the same weight.

Same weight, same failure.

I'm so tired of failing.

I wish I could do something right, for once.

Eat like a pig, don't eat, eat a bit. It doesn't matter. Nothing changes.

Seriously, what the hell I'm still doing here?

I should have jumped so many times.

Everyday I think about suicide. Everyday starts with the wish I had jumped the day before. And the promise of jumping today is the only thing that makes me go through hours.

That and food, of course.

My mum is a freaking paranoid bitch. Found out I had thrown food away. And now she's making me eat all the possible crap cause she's scared that I'll end up weighting 89 lbs again. What the hell. I mean, I'm fucking obese. I'm not exactly going to die of hunger if I restrict a bit. If I lose 12 Kg. I'm just going to be fine. And now it's a bit too early to get so worried about it.

I'm tired of people shouting at me and telling me how miserable I am.

I should get some work done for my final exams. Got a thesis to write, all my programs to repeat/study, but i can't do anything.

I feel always so tired.

I'd just sleep all day.

I just want to be tiny. I just want to look fragile. I just want to be thin.

every time i look at that mirror I just want to cry so bad. But I'm afraid of starting, cause I don't know if I'll ever stop.

He's not answering my call, but maybe that's for the best. I think that if he answers this thin wall will break.

I feel the fat coming out of my jeans. This makes me sick.

I think I'll have a panic attack soon.

I always have to get filled of crap. During the last days I've been about to have one almost constantly. Also now. I feel sick. Waiting for my brother to take the dog out, so that I can vomit.

I'm tired I'm tired I'm tired I'm tired.

Feeling this fat everywhere is making me crazy.

I wish so much I could rip it away.

I feel so desperate.

I want to shout.

I want to break everything.

I want to cut me into pieces.

I'm so freaking fat

DISGUSTING DISGUSTINGDISGUSTINGDISGUSTINGDISGUSTINGDISGUSTINGFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATAWFULAWFULAWFULAWFUL

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

FATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFATFAT

I can't breath. The fat is everywhere. I feel it on my arms, on my shoulders, on my neck. It suffocates me. I want to cry. But I can't. I want to vomit everything. Vomit for 7 days and 7 nights constantly. Vomit out all this crap until I'm 100 lbs, light and free and beautiful. And...right.

I want to be right.

I want to be good.

i don't want to go hiding. I don't want to be left alone. I don't want to be the fattest girl I know anymore. I don't want people to be disgusted by me. No no no

Please

Please...

TOMORROW I'M STARTING THE ABC DIET

The 24th of May is fading away, slowing slipping with the sun behind the cliffs. In 56 days I'll see H. I can't allow myself to be this fat. No no no no no. Tomorrow 500 calories. I can make it. I know I can (no, I actually don't but I'm trying to stay positive and cheat my mind). I'm going to work out tonight before going to bed and tomorrow before going to school, before and after every time I eat and before going to bed. Stay strong, lovely girls <3



Answers to the comments

Katie: Hey darling. Hope things are going better there. Yay I'd like to get you know you better as well, cause I agree that we have a lot in common. I wish we hadn't, of course. I wish that all we girls could be happy with what we have, and don't have to consume us in this sick path to despair and little numbers. But I guess that knowing that we are not alone makes this a little bit more bearable. And you are not alone. Take care. You deserve it. I'm doing my best to keep my head up. Have the feeling (and the hope) that this will be easier when I don't have all this fat pushing my head down. Thank you for the support, love. Hope that my love and my finger crossed are enough to show you my care. I'm apparently not very good at making people happy.

Alice May:  Hi Ally-girl. Thank you for caring so much about me =) My arm is getting better. Slowly, but it's getting better. My ear piercing got infected again so I had a good excuse to have a lot of bends and antiseptic around (I don't usually clean my cuts, but I was more afraid for this one). It's not really...wide. I used a bloody razor's blade, after all. But I got several deep cuts very close to each other and a couple of them on the other side, so that they make a kind of X. Not really a great idea. Good thing the weather has been really a shit in these days, so I can use shirts with long sleeves without looking weird ;)

Yeah, I know I shouldn't hurt myself. That it seems to help just for a second, and then it's more troubles than anything. It's just that sometimes I can't help my self. I feel my arms itching everyday. Everyday it's a war to resist. Even worse than hunger, sometimes. Sometimes I don't do it for quite a time (longest time: 3 months). But when I don't cut I hurt my self anyway: scratching, biting lips (constantly do it) oh and the most absurd thing ever: sticking the eyebrows' tweezers in my skin (specially fingers, but also tights and tummy). I know I gotta stop. Now I'm so paranoid that someone finds out about it. But sometimes it just seems the only thing to do. How did you manage to stop?

BeautifulThinner16: Oh Jordy, your comment almost made me cry (but in a nice way =) ). Didn't quite expect that. Saw it by chance when I opened the page of the last post to read through the comments again to answer them properly. What can I say? I'm so speechless. Thank you for the adorable words. You have no idea of how much they mean to me. I just wish I could see this amazing side of myself too, but I guess that's something that none of us, at the moment can see. I was so worried when I started writing this blog. Glad it gave me the chance to meet people who can understand me. Was extremely sceptical that this would have ever happened. Much love and remember to never put yourself down. Love you.

(Hope you don't mind if I call you Jordy. Reminds me of a song I really like. It kinda suits you actually: sad and beautiful at the same time. Remember to keep that gorgeous smile on your face <3 )

________

Hey girls, thank you for supporting. Thank you so much.

It's kinda weird of me to say this. There's a twisted predicament in feeling the need of being helped but refusing it those few times it happens that someone wants to give you a hand. But maybe the thing that we are all so physically far helps.
Physicality scares the living shit out of me.
I've always vomited for days after dating a guy. Maybe this is why my boyfriend is Australian haha
Actually I'm quite concerned that, although we'll have been...well together for 9 months when I'll get back there, I will panic and hardly be able to hug him.









I crave love. I crave attention. But when I got it I always need to escape from that. A bit like food. I hate it, but I go crazy for it. I think that working in a restaurant or something like that would make my day. Sometimes I feel like getting full even only preparing something, but then someone's gotta eat it, haven't they? I just wish that this "someone" wasn't me.








Had quite a weird day. Felt very depressed as soon as it started. Basically because I had eaten like crazy the night before and went straight to bed after 'cause I didn't want to vomit.
I'm freaking tired of vomiting. I keep doing it, but I don't force myself to, so I don't know why I do that. It usually happens just when I go out with a boy. I hate that. I feel so tired, my head is like burning, my stomach hurts and my throat sores. I dunno where's the fucking problem with me, really.
So this morning I skipped breakfast not to feel even sicker. Went to school and felt like shit doing the last Greek test ever. Just gotta do the exam now. I wish I did it so much better. But I failed. I know I did.
Remember the guy I've got a thing for? Not my boy, the other. He's like everything I'll never be. He's so confident. And clever. He arrived like half an hour later and still managed to perfectly finish it. How the hell does he do? It's so frustrating, really. Don't need to wonder why he hardly looks at me. I'm so hopeless. So vain. So futile. He'll go far. He's one of those person that are going to become someone. Someone important. One day he'll hardly remember me as the lonely-troubled-always sick-ugly-fat girl.
There's something tragically ironic in the thing that he saved my life. Since then, since he stopped, I've felt like I couldn't kill myself for real. But in 5 years so many things have changed. Maybe he doesn't even remember it. But I've promised myself that I'll tell him about it. I need to know why he stopped me.
I'm so disgusting. He says I'm the most ugly girl ever. That he can't stand me. I'm just an inappropriate presence.

So why the hell did he stop me?
When nobody did anything.
All those people who said they cared about me...they didn't move a finger.
He basically jumped on me and stopped me. He did what I needed, desperately needed someone to do.

Back to the "I need help: Back off".








I've spent all the day thinking about jumping from the roof of an abandoned building I found while walking around, back in the day.
Thought about telling him everything. And just do it.
But I couldn't talk. I could hardly breathe.
I'm tired of being a sad attraction with my crazy panic attacks, so I kept focused and walked back home.
During the last period I went outside to have a cigarette. The sixth in four hours. The new cuts on my hips were like burning. Had the great idea of cutting on my neck as well. Just a couple of little cuts on the side. My history of art teacher  asked me to go with him to the school's gate.

"What's the problem Maria?"
"None"
"Something must have happened. I've got kids. And I'm not blind. What's the problem? Is it health?"
"No, sir"
"Is it family? How are things in your family going?"
"They're going, sir" (I could hear my mum yelling at me to eat from my memory)
"So it must be the heart"
I smiled. I wish it was so simple. "No, sir, for real"
"I don't want to see you like this"
He went back home. He couldn't hear me replying "Don't worry, sir. You won't see me for much longer."

But I came back home. And I ate. Not much. A bit of pasta with tomato sauce (like 7 macaroni) and a bit of mozzarella (about 5 bites). And vomited. Then my stomach was killing me. So I had some cereals and milk. And vomited. A lot. And had an argument with my brother. And vomited even more. And I was out of control, and stuck the blade deep into my arm. This was almost right before having to go to do some stuff with my mum. And for the first time in my life I couldn't control the blood coming out. It just wouldn't stop. I stayed for ages with the arm under the freezing water. I couldn't even feel the cold. I was...a bit afraid, yeah. But not for my life. I didn't want my parents to find out, didn't want to go to the hospital, didn't want everybody to look at me and know that I am the stupid sad girl who attempted suicide. I used tons of toilet paper, took some tights and tied them very tight around my arm. Then I put a jumper on and the jacket on that. And prayed for nobody to notice. I apparently survived, but I haven't checked my arm yet.





"What do you have here??"
My mum's voice in concern referring to my little cuts on the neck.
"Where?" I can be a good actress when I want. And my skin is very delicate, so it was still reddish and my mum thought I just got them. So it was easy to say that it must have been the jacket's zip. Or maybe she just wanted to believe it.



Gotta get ready for the last speech on Greek literature. I know it's gonna be a shit, though. It's not that I want to put myself down, I just know that I am not good.
Haven't checked my weight. I don't see the point in doing it. With all this vomiting and binging, I can't have lost much. I freaking hate being bulimic.



Hope that you're all doing better than me xxxx

Answers to comments:


Alice May: Yeah. Freaking scales. But at least they are not hypocrit. They tell you the truth. And if you wanna get better, you just gotta work harder. Easy. Well it should be.
Thank you for supporting so much. It's really kind of you :) It's just that I feel like I don't have the strenght to change things. And everytime I somehow got to change something, I made a mess.
Hope you're doing better with the diet and that you are feeling more focused on your study as well. loads of kisses xxxxxxxxx





Katie Elizabeth: I'm looking for the strenght that your mum had. I really admire these people who make big changes in their life, even when they haven't been easy. This is one of the reasons why I hate me: I'm so lucky, but not good enough to deserve it.
Thank you for following and for the caring. Really, really thanks. Love xxxxxxxx

discouraged

I don't know what to do.
I didn't fast, at the end, cause I've realised that if I had stayed at water -coffee and tea for 10 days I'd have gained weight even eating only fruits after.
I have kept under 500 calories until yesterday, but it hasn't worked. Still the same fucking weight.
This fucking spring is killing me. It's so hot here. I feel so lazy. So weak. Every time I stand up it's such a hard work to keep my balance.
I'm so disgusted of my body. I look at it and feel so hopeless. I don't even have the strength to go to the toilet and vomit.
I've covered my tummy of cuts, again.
It's a good spot cause nobody sees them and they hurt when my trousers get tight on them. This reminds me that I gotta get skinny to feel less pain.

I hate food. But I'm taking tablets because of the allergy to these pollens and these tablets make me outrageously hungry and tired. I keep eating and sleeping, sleeping and eating. That's all I do.
I think about my life and I don't know where it's going. But I'm tired of rolling like a stone.
I wish I could escape but it seems that everything I do is gonna carry loads of troubles.


I think about jumping in the dark. Every new day it seems more like the only good thing to do.
But for some reasons I'm still here. Thrown on the world's scene.
I should study hard. In one month I'll have to do my final exam and there are too many things I don't know at all and I'm not sure at all about the little I know.
I should think about my future, making plans, but I'm so afraid of failing. I know that failing sometimes is good: making mistakes is apparently the best way to figure out what the right thing to do is.
But it also seems that I don't work like this. Because I keep failing.
I can't do anything.
I haven't learnt anything.
I have no point, no experience, nothing. Just this cluster of fat.
I wish the scale could tell me that, for once, I've been a good girl. At least it's not hard to be a good girl at its eyes. I should just stop eating like a pig.
I see no point in life. Especially in mine.

I want to change. I really, really do.
But I can't.
I don't know what's so wrong about me. But there is something wrong, indeed.
Have binged yesterday and today and feeling really depressed right now.
I want to delete whole my life.
It's has been just a waste. Of time, of care, of sacrifice, of work.
A huge waste.
Just like my body.
But maybe I don't want to be cured.






















Please, please, please, please... Save me from myself.

What's the use of a title?

They don't make it

the beautiful die in flame-
suicide pills, rat poison, rope what-
ever...
They rip their arms off,
throw themselves out of windows,
they pull their eyes out of the sockets,
reject love
reject hate
reject,reject.

They don't make it
the beautiful can't endure,
they are butterflies
they are doves
they are sparrows,
they don't make it.

One tall shot of flame
while the old men play checkers in the park
one flame,one good flame
while the old men play checkers in the park
in the sun.

The beautiful are found in the edge of a room
crumpled into spiders and needles and silence
and we can never understand why they
left,they were so
beautiful.

They don't make it,
the beautiful die young
and leave the ugly to their ugly lives.

Lovely and brilliant: life and suicide and death
as the old men play checkers in the sun
in the park.

                                                      

                                                                            Charles Bukowski

I definitely didn't deserve to die. I absolutely don't deserve it now.

That would be too much of a mercy.

I'm bound to live my ugly life, as a ugly person, until I'll be waiting for the death to come, lonely and probably with my mind molten by senile dementia.

I've gained all the lost weight.

I'm going to fast for 10 days.

And when I am not able to stand up from my bed, I'll smack me and cut me till the pain will be too much to lay there.

Answers to comments

Alice May: Hey Alice =) thank you for commenting, that always makes me feel less lonely, really. Yeah I know that feeling. I think I won't make a good anything at all. This actually makes me pretty angry at myself, cause sometimes, when I look around, I see that other people maybe are not that better. I can't follow their values, their hopes, their talks. Quite ironic that, although I'm the one with an eating disorder and ignorant people who don't go through this shit usually think that it's just a matter of looking pretty and wishing to become a model, I know a lot of people who are so more superficial than me. I've been quite skinny and I still thought (and think) that I wasn't beautiful nor a better person even being 89 lbs. But eating makes me feel dirty. And I'm tired of being the dirty. Being the wrong one. You asked me why do I feel like "the second choice". I think this has something to do that people have always had an interaction with me only when they had nothing better to do, and whatever relation has ended as soon as I lost even that little interest I had somehow generated in them (which always happens pretty quickly). I'm aware that if everybody finds everything more attractive than being with me, the fault must also be mine. I just don't know what I do so wrong. So I guess that I must simply be wrong. Consuming myself to death is also the physical translation of what happens inside my soul, and what I guess I deserve.

Keep losing

I've never thought that I'd have gotten to this point.





If you asked me last year, I had no doubt I'd have died a bit after turning 18. I used to tell myself everyday: "Just 503 more days. Just 502. 501..."
This was the only plan about my life I made.
I was so sick of trying. So tired of thinking and dreaming to become someone that I'd have never been.
Now I'm still sick and tired of life, but somehow, for some reasons, I'm thinking about a different future. Maybe I just got too coward.



I feel so ashamed of myself.
I feel ashamed for failing to suicide all those times.
I feel ashamed for not doing anything good with my life even after deciding to stay.

Frustration makes  me bite my lips till they bleed.










"What do you want to do?"

I don't know. Nothing. That's it. I want to fall asleep right now and never wake up.




"Is it really so sad to be alive?"

It is, when you are me. When you see all the uncountable possibilities that life offers you but you are simply unable to do anything. Constantly paralysed in an awfully fat body. Prisoned in a mind that denies the thought itself and gets stuck on the calories, on the pain, on dreams of great and nothing, in a tribal dance of light and dark, life and death, everything and nothing.









I can't see any future for me. I know I gotta pick a path to follow. But I can't. I can't do anything. I'm not good at anything. I don't like anything. And I realize that I'm more a freak than a human being. A pathetic and worthless amount of fat.
I feel ashamed to go out. I feel ashamed of being seen even by my parents, by my brother.











I wish I could be weightless.



I wish I could be so different.



I wish I had a passion, a quality.



I wish I was good at least at something. Even just one thing.



I hate being this useless.



I hate being so wrong.


I hate being myself.

I feel like trapped. I want to get out. I want to cry and shout in despair, but the screams are locked in my mind like everything else. I can't feel any emotions anymore. I can't react. Everything that happens to me slips in another dimension of oblivion.
I don't know who I am, what I am.
I don't know what happened to me.
Where was I while my life was going by?
How did I spend all these years?
I want to cry, because I don't know, although I am supposed to be able to answer those questions.
I don't recognize my self.






Sometimes I feel as if I woke up in this body, in this life, just this morning, without knowing anything about my past.





Have I really always been this me?







                                                                         I can feel the fat coming out of my trousers. Every inch of it reminds me of the failure I am. 








I should have died that night. I should have died that night. I should have died that night.







I hate my parents for giving me life.












I look at my hands while writing and they give me the creeps.
They're so fat.
They don't look even mine.
They seem two weird independent animals. Mollusks.




I'm afraid.




Booking the plane tickets. In 3 months I'll be in your arms.
Do I really deserve it?
What did you see in me so special? So unique? Why me?







He's got the summer sky's blue in his eyes.
He says he loves me. I believe him. I want to believe him.
I just wonder who he's really in love with.
Cause it can't be me.














I wish I could have a dream.















P.S. Thank you BeautifulThinner 16 for being my new follower. I'll answer the comments etc later. Sorry, but I feel just to weak right now. This is not a good excuse, I know. I guess that it's cause reality is worse than fiction and stuff like that. Hope you're all doing good.