Add Some Spice…

Oh my god.

There is this drug called spice, which is a blend of herbs and, you guessed it, spices. It’s one of many ‘alternative’ drugs. It is similar to weed, except lighter, fluffier and without the underlying paranoia and heaviness. It isn’t as deep as weed, it’s more playful and you feel interested in everything you see, rather than feel like everything is okay in the world and that you understand everything like weed. It’s also weirder in that although your head is completely spaced out, you appear normal exteriorly, and your body is normal and your responses normal – but it’s like your body is actually on autopilot and controlling all your reactions.

I took the biggest two drags I have ever taken before, but I only took four drags altogether of it. That was at two this afternoon. That was…ten hours ago. I’m still high.

The greatest thing, the very greatest thing, is that once you are over 18, it is completely legal.

Bonding Time..?

It’s Easter weekend soon, and Mum has time off. She would probably be at work if she could, but everyone has a few days holiday. This is meant to be time to spend together because we are alone. My dad and sister are gone abroad and it’s just us. Today she made a delicious salad, and I have been so good food wise. All week I have been so good. Eating like a normal person, purging and exercising minimally.

I have tried so hard to be normal, and for what?

She makes this salad, talks about losing weight, being together, painting the house, eating chocolate together, chatting…I even say that I’ll have a few drinks with her. When I’m drinking water with lemon in it she seems disappointed that I chose not to drink with her. I’m with her aren’t I?

She walks out the room half way through the film, half way through her salad. Comes back later, much later, drunker than before. She eats more salad, drops off to sleep. She sleeps through the rest of the film, and through the next one. She’s sleeping now. Whenever she is awake she’s slurring, her head drooping, her hands fumbling, dropping things.

I don’t know what I feel anymore. I don’t know whether I can afford to keep hoping that she’ll stop drinking. I don’t know whether I can take waiting any more. Every time she says she’ll stop drinking, there’s a “one last time” and I don’t think I can believe her anymore. There are too many “one last time”s. Hope isn’t really enough anymore, and I think that for a long time it’s only been a memory of how it felt to hope.

I want to help her, but she falls back, pushing away my outstretched hands. I end up just watching her stumble around, my heart breaking. I know that many people have worse parents; abusive parents. Mine don’t particularly neglect me, it isn’t even that. I think in many ways neglect would be better. No, instead I’m looking after her. Shouldering her tears. She rubs my shoulder as she cries, but I’m fine. She’s only doing it to feel like she’s the parent. To feel like she is in control, looking after me. It’s not true though, is it? None of it is true.

Poem

You sing so blue,
The only thing that’s true,
Baby hide your face,
Nothing there but your disgrace.

Don’t you cry,
Those beautiful tired eyes,
Baby hold your breath,
Life’s a test and then there’s…

Death.

The Glow…

Aparantly I had the ‘just had sex glow’ this morning. I feel so good. The happiest I have been in so long…sex is a miracle cure for depression!

Tomorrow I start my Rainbow Diet, and I am going to be so good. There is no reason to eat. I’m happy. Life is good. Happiness and thinness go hand in hand, and being happy to start with…perfect!

I get to be thin, and fullfilled!

I’m happy.

Sex…

I lost my virginity in the early hours of this morning. It was perfect. First time…managed to go through six positions without him ‘leaving’ me. Pretty impressive, huh? The desk was one of my favourites…just for the novelty! After having a really bad day Friday, and bad morning Saturday, it was so good to have him here with me.

Have a feeling I’m going to become addicted…but at least this is exercise! And very pleasurable!

In Reply…

This is a reply to unfitting’s comment on my post, “Reasons”:

She said that where I feel like I’m watching my mum die slowly, many people feel low and like that. I’m not arguing that other people don’t have similar situations, and I’m definately not saying I have it worse than anyone else.

She also said that my mum would feel the same way about me. Feel like she’s watching me die, too. I can’t agree with that, because to my family, everything is normal. The only problem I have is ‘minor depression’, because that was what I was diagnosed before I even said about food and self harm and the suicidal stuff. It’s progressed since. She also has no idea about the eating problems, because whereas most people with ED’s who say that they aren’t thin, I’m being truthful.

I’m called, “slim”. I’m the same size I always was, because I’m not anorexic. If anything I’m bulimic, but to be honest EDNOS is probably what they would call me. I flit between tendencies, and my weight ups and downs, but not enough to make a difference to my appearance with clothes on.

So actually, she isn’t watching me slowly destroy myself, because she has no idea. Maybe she is watching me self-destruct, but she doesn’t know it, and so isn’t being harmed.

What Felt Good Then…

I thought that I could do it. I thought that I could eat and not need to purge. I forced myself to not purge. I tried so hard to be normal, but I only feel worse. I had 800 kcals in an elaborate lunch that I went all-out on. I made up my favourite foods: sandwiches, toast, macaroni cheese…

The only interesting and minorly good thing was that I saw the crisps in the pantry and I didn’t even want them. I used to be salt obsessive. I would get such bad cravings…maybe it’s because I’ve cut down on (well out) salt from my diet.

Anyway. I didn’t purge, and now I feel like a fat cow waiting to be slaughtered through grueling fatness.

From last Tuesday evening, until this morning, I had lost nine pounds, and gained one (last night); that’s a loss of eight pounds a week. That is really good, and I should be happy, and I was…but now I just feel like a hippo.

Tomorrow I’m going to the gym and I’m going to starve, and burn off more than I’ve eaten for a week. I haven’t eaten 2000 kcals in a week, and I’m going to try and burn AT LEAST 2000. It’s a necessity. I’ve also been surfing the net today, more randomly than anything, but I found all this information on drugs that make you lose weight. One is originally for horses, and another is for thyroids, but bodybuilders use them to burn fat without exercising or cutting calories.

I’m sorting out my debit card details so that I can buy some Cytomel; makes you burn fat at a really fast rate without restricting. Of course I’ll restrict too, but having that’ll be a big help.