Is anyone there?

It's been more than two years since I've been on here. I'm not the little spunky 13-year old anymore, I'm 16, but I still hate myself. I miss you all. I miss Andy and Helen and Della. I miss all of you. I went through and read all of the comments, and they made me smile. But then I go through all of the posts I made and I remember how sad and lonely I was, but all of you helped me through that. If any of you read this and want to get in contact with me, you can go here: waytogowonderwhore.tumblr.com Just say you know me from blogger, say who you are, what your blog was. I'm dying to talk to any of you again.

To you:
You deserve more than I can give. You have cared for me, even though you aren't always here. And yet I make more excuses to not see you than anybody else in my life. I admire you more than anyone else, and I miss you more than you think.

And you:
I have put you through hell and back and you still haven't shipped me off to military school yet. I really owe you an apology, but I'm not that kind of person.

And you:
I hate you more than any person I have ever had the misfortune to meet. You have ruined my life and turned me into the monster that I have become. But you love my mother, and even though I believe you could treat her a hell of a lot better than you do now, you make her happy, and for that I mildly tolerate you.

And you:
I wish we were closer. I wish I could talk to you more, but you're the big-shoot senior, and I'm just a freshman. But I look at a picture of you every single day, just to make sure you're still here and haven't left me yet. I hope when we're older that we realize we have more in common than we thought, and grow closer. But until then, I'll be happy with just being a backup girl in the movie of your life. I miss you. A lot.

And you:
I claim that you are my best friend, and that is true. You understand whenever I'm having a bad day, you give me my space instead of poking your nose all up in my grill. I know that we'll be friends for freaking ever, because you and I get along that well. I'm sorry that you're in the hospital. I wish I could take away all your pain. You look so much healthier that you did before your were diagnosed. But now I'm starting to hate you, because you like the boy that I think I love. You're using your illness to get closer to him. If you two start dating, I will never forgive you.

YOU'RE SO FUCKING FULL OF SHIT I CAN'T FUCKING STAND YOU JUST LOOKING AT YOU MAKES ME WANT TO GOUGE OUT MY EYEBALLS WITH FUCKING SPOONS I AM SO DAMN TIRED OF YOUR FUCKING FUCKERY. YOU CAN JUST GO AND FUCKING ROT IN A FIERY FUCKING PIT OF FLAMES BECAUSE I JUST HATE YOU THAT MUCH AND WHENEVER YOU SAY SOMETHING I THINK I AM GOING TO FUCKING IMPLODE. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU FUCKING THINK YOU ARE, MY FATHER!?! YOU'RE NOT MY FUCKING FATHER, YOU'RE JUST A FUCKING REPLACEMENT UNTIL HE COMES BACK. I FUCKING HATE YOU AND OIJADSGHIHOSRIOPEASJHIPOGKHBIJIJWASJUGWAOPJSGJ.


The only thing I've eaten today is a cup of applesauce(50). Let's keep that way, shall we?

Those who hate most fervently must have once loved deeply. Those who want to deny the world must have once embraced what they have now set on fire. You can lose everything, but what is real will still remain. This is about as poetic as I can get.

I wish I was old enough to get beer or vodka or something. Because then I could make everything numb and forget it all.

La mama is calling for dinner(sorry Mom, but I'm on this diet. This diet where I don't eat anything.). Goodbye lovelies.

I often miss this little girl I knew, from a long time ago. Whose dreams had no barriers and who believed in a world where anything is possible, with a heart that was full and unbroken.
(And one day, little girl, you'll discover that you're not the prettiest little princess in the whole world... that you're not the smartest. You'll grow up and it will tear you up inside.)

Yes, it's been a long time. Hello, SUMMER. I go on vacation tomorrow, up to the cabin that my parents rent out every year. I will be bringing a shitload of books, including my food journal. I am now in the process of adding different recipes to it. Most of them are under 200 calories. How's your summer been?

Here is my summer, in short: get up, get dressed, do nothing. Watch TV. FACEBOOK. Hang out with friends. Come home. Go to bed. The story of my fucking life.

You know, day-by-day, you don't really notice the weight loss. You don't really notice anything, except the aching pit in your stomach, and all the cotton balls that your head is filled with. By then, one day, you looked in the mirror (mistake, by the way). And you're like, WHOA. My ribs are showing. I don't have to arch my back to see me spine, it's just THERE. My collarbones look like razor blades, and my cheeks remind me of the edge of a cliff. It's rather pretty, I think. It's beautiful.
And yes, my mind is wrecked with images of itty-bitty wrists and teeny-tinny kneecaps, so I'm really not one to judge. But then I step on the scale, and it tells my the truth- I'm still ugly. (Never look in the mirror. It feeds you LIES, and gets your hopes up, only to be crushed by a million boulders when the scale bitch-slaps you across the face and says, "You-hoo! Welcome to reality, stupid!" So never look in the mirror. Break it. Cover it. Just don't look in it. Ever.)