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.)

A little something I made to describe myself to lovely people(read: YOU!). It doesn't mention my ED, because I just might put this on my Facebook page. So, yeah. :/


She's young (too young, she thinks sometimes) and sometimes, she's just plain immature. But it's okay. She's slightly (incredibly) moody and enjoys writing to a great extent. She spends her hours wasting time when she should be studying, and when she could be wasting time she's doing something else. She might be slightly on the bipolar side and if you hurt her she might break but no, that's just her and she knows it and its okay and eventually she gets back on her feet. She's fine with who she is and her biggest r e g r e t is something that hasn't happened yet. She traces patterns in the dirt because she is b.o.r.e.d easily and does not like mathematics one bit. She likes to believe there is something better, bigger, more exciting in this world but then again she's slightly (very) insane and maybe just a little chaotic.

But she's also quite lovely. She wears flowy dress and skinny jeans and her camera on her wrist because that's who she is, and who she is does not care whether she's 'fashionable' right now (she'd rather be i n d i v i d u a l). Likes to think she's {creative} and has H I G H H O P E S for this world in the future.She loves
P H O T O G R A P H Y, loves A R T . Loves the idea of waking up at six in the morning to get the perfect picture. Loves it all. She quite likes semicolons;; but she doesn't know why and also these thingsanddoesanyoneactuallyknowwhatthey'recalledanyway? She likes to find old pictures and new pictures and even occasionally just-in-the-middle pictures and she loves to read, just loves to read anything. She will try and try for things. M U S I C never fails to make her(:smile.

Well, the fantastic helen melon and sunshine gave me this. If you don't think they're totally wonderful, BLAH to you(:

the rules are:

1. List your ten favourite songs on your iPod.
2. State the colour of said iPod.
3. Sass the award onto eleven fellow music loving bloggers.

Let's get this show on the road. My iPod is a baby-blue Nano. The little square kind.

1. Mountains- Buffy Clyro
2. Stolen- Dashboard Confessional
3. Run- Snow Patrol
4. Book of Days- Enya
5. Full Moon- Sonata Artica
6. Forever- Fireflight
7. Walking the Dog- Fun.
8. Misguided Ghosts- Paramore
9. Turn It Off- Paramore
10. For Blue Skies- Strays Don't Sleep

If you have any awesome songs, put 'em in the comments(:

Now, onto the bloggers. I don't know that many people, so I'm just gonna put 6 :P.

1. Sarah- Aim High. Fall Gracefully.
2. Andy- Breaking Through
3. Madz- c h a o s t h e o r y
4. Mona- she smiles with me
5. Violet- Shrinking Violet
6. Cammie- Turn It Up To 11

Some of you may not know me, because I don't comment a lot, but I read you blogs every day.

OhMyGodithinkiamgoingtokillmyself

So much food. To many calories to count. Bursting at the seams.

The Worst Day of the Year is coming up, and I sit here and ponder what my family will think of me when they come over and watch me gorge myself. I'm pretty sure they'll think I'm disgusting, I know I do. This is what happens when you have a professional trainer for a father, and nutritionist for a mother, and a beauty for a sister. Lovely.

Anyways, I've been a terrible blogger to you all. Thanks to Fede, Helen, and Andy for being so fantastic and commenting on my angsty-teenager rants. You all are truly wonderful(:
How have you all been lately?

"You full?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, you look like it."

Thanks, mom.

1 cup Obnoxious People
1 1/2 cups Heat
2 cups Extremely High Shrieking that some people call laughter
A dash of Terrible Classes

Stir in Ridiculously Long Softball Practice

Pour into brain.

Makes the worst headache ever. 1 serving.
...
Story of my life.

Happiness

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now.

Happiness, by Urban Dictionary: A small metal hinged box with pointy edges, wrapped with barbed-wire and hidden in a dark room full of electric eels, razorblades, piles of salt crystals with fans behind them and random pools of lemon juice.

And I will go through all of that shit to get it.

What's in the box? Nobody knows, except that it may or may not be a number that is ever-changing, like a demented, shape-shifting monster. It's twisting around in my dreams, getting lower and lower until it is nothing at all. Blurring like a person's future, something that a bogus gypsy at a carnival will tell you.

What's your definition?

A Little Late, I Hope It's Okay

So, no post yesterday. I was going to, but I was like, "But it's Mommy's Day... eh."
I really do love my mother quite a bit(:

Went for a walk with E yesterday, down to my old elementary school. So many memories, of a time where there wasn't a girl that wanted to see her bones and disappear. It was a good day.

So, today was just about miserable. No breakfast, everything at lunch. So ashamed, I feel like I'm about to cry. Added unhappiness with M, little bitch.
"You treat me just like another stranger/
Well it's nice to meet you sir/
I guess I'll go/
I best be on my way out"

The new Paramore CD, Brand New Eyes, is fantastic. My current favorites are Careful, Ignorance, Playing God, Turn It Off, and Brick By Boring Brick. Fantastic(:

Going for a walk with E and C later. Have a good day(:

There Are Days When I'm Not Okay

stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating stop eating

May

23 more days, 23 more days, 23 more days.

And what I mean by all this is that there is 23 more days until the BIG DAY. The day where my entire family gathers around my kitchen table, sings the hated song that marks you become a teenager and leaving my child-self behind, and Grandma makes you a delicious fucking cake.

Yeah. My birthday.

So, I have roughly 2- 2 1/2 weeks to get skinny. Fuck. My. Life. Mis Dios, that's not a lot of time.
Voy a estar delgada! I will be thin!

Note to self: Exercise, fast- but not so much that my body goes into starvation mode, saltwater flush(ew).

... This should definitely go on FML.

Secret

There is a place that I go in my backyard. In the back-left corner, there is a crap-apple tree. It's blossoming right now, with little purple/pink flowers on it. I love it, I always go out there when my parents are fighting. It's in dire need of repair. The wooden planks in the tree need to be replaced, and the entire place is just a mess because of the winter. I'll post some pictures of it soon(:

I'm trying to fast today, but I don't think it's going to work, considering I'm /going to/dragged by my ears to/ a little Mexican place called Los Tres Amigos. It's really good, and I absolutely hate it. Shoot me, please?

Moving on, a shout out to mi papa, for taking 3rd place in his body-building competition(: He got this freaking sweet samurai sword thing as his prize.

I have some photography for you all, but my computer has been acting like a brat and won't upload them. But I'll get them up, I'll try.

Spring and Softball

Well, now that Spring is here I'm restarting my photography. There's a tree outside my American Studies and English class with all these little white blossoms on it. Note to self: remember camera. The tulips are blooming, and the daffodils. I would take some pictures right this very second, but I'm writing this, and I have softball practice in about a hour.

... What? Lauren exercises?

Yes, now shut up. The bad side of this is that it's from 7:00 to 8:30.

Really? That's awful late.

Why, yes it is. But Coach's Daughter Elaina does track, which ends at 5, and he didn't know how many other girls were doing it. Plus, hey, the girls needs a little time to rest.

Did you know you could switch your Facebook language to Pirate? It's so cool.

Thank you to Helen for her lovely comment. It totally made me day(:

Everywhere I go, I am seeing French. I don't know why. So, I will leave you in Spanish.

Adios!

Dear Kyla,

Your my cousin, and I love you. And I'm sorry that I can't follow your blog because I don't want you to find out about me. And it's hard to follow you anyways, because you're rambling(what a good word!) about how hard life is, and how we have to just work through it. And God. I don't believe in any God. Screw God, I have Ana. I miss you.

Love,
Lauren

Work

It's a difficult thing. I'm currently typing my story, Chains, for English, and I think it's giving me carpel tunnel. It's about a girl, Hannah, whose mother, Mary Easty, is an accused witch at the Salem Witch Trials. It's such a difficult piece for me, not because it was a real event, and these are real people, but because of the strong, complex emotions that I get while writing. Here's an excerpt:

"Once the cups were drained, the kitchen was clean, and the Bibles were put away, she kissed me goodnight on the cheek, sending me off to bed with a terrible feeling in my gut for having lied. Would Reverend Paris see my shame? But then, another thought came with thinking about Reverend. Would the afflicted girls accuse someone else? Would they have a fit? Their fits terrified me, that someone would want to hurt them so badly that they would scream and writher with pain. It was heartbreaking to have to sit there and watch. The most prominent accuser, Ann Putnam, was also the youngest. She was an angelic child- big blue eyes, wispy blond hair. It was quite a shame that this was happening to her.
Crawling under my bed sheets, I remember the last fit I saw her have. During the trial of Bridget Bishop, she was seemingly flung from her pew in the courthouse, crying of being pinched and pricked by Bridget’s apparition. The judges pulled up her sleeves. Bright red marks her all over her arms, and she cried out, pointing to the other girls around her and saying they were being treated the same. The judges fluttered, pulling up the other girls sleeves. Ann was speaking the truth.
The head judge, William Stoughton, ordered Rebecca Nurse’s death. I saw it with my own eyes.

But my own eyes were growing heavy, and I succumbed to the darkness that was sleep.

The sound of chirping birds awoke me, the sunlight streaming through the glass like water. I climb out of bed and my nightgown, and into a somber, black dress. It is too beautiful for a day like this. This day, this 19th of July."

Rebecca Nurse is Mary Easty's sister, which makes her Hannah's aunt.

My mom thinks it's great, but she's my mom. It's like she been programmed to say that. Tell me what you think, please.

I have to eat dinner with my family. I really don't want to. It's salmon, with other things and stuff. But I've eaten so much today.

Emily forced me into helping her serve ice cream (as Student Council does every Wednesday), which means that we got free ice cream. I said no, but Other Friend Ciara was also helping, and she puppy-dog eyed me into getting some. Why am I so gullible? Take the calories from that, a school lunch, and cereal this morning, the calorie count must be over 1,000. I'll have to fast tomorrow.