I've had my ups and I've had my downs.
Lost weight(not enough) but pissed enough blood to scare me into eating a sandwich.  Get very sleepy at about 9, and no one knows yet.

Besides Ian. And we don't fight about this anymore. Now we fight on his band.

I'm not sure what pisses me off.  But I know something does. it's not that I care that he's always with three girls.  Because they're all fucking ugly.  But Goldmine pisses me off as a person.  I'm not jealous that she's spending time with my boyfriend, I just hate her as an individual and hate that Ian thinks 'we're alike'
So a couple of gashes and tear-stained pillow cases later, I figure out I miss him.
Which is irrational, since I do see him still.  Just not so much. I'm just tired of seeing him fucking walk away.  Or seeing him leave in a car with five teenagers, who are mostly illegal to be driving.  Three of which are girls.

I don't know, I can't figure out what makes me angry about his band.  maybe that it's sucking up his life. or that it's all he ever talks about anymore.  And it feels like he's pushing me out of the way so he can have his band; If he has the chance to be with me or band, he'd choose the band.
I have a problem with being second best.  Most likely thanks to Val and Micheal, but when I'm dating somebody, and I'm not his favorite thing...I apparently get pissed. Ian said it would be good for him to be at band a lot because then it would 'make me realize that being number one isn't always possible'

You, my lovely boyfriend, are fucking stupid.  Maybe I should start making out with my guy friends to show you that 'fidelity really isn't all that' 

I thought I'd pick up this odd eating habit so I'd be too distracted to worry about Ian. How he's out until 11:30 at night. How he called me at 1:42 am last night to say that he'd stop by tomorrow (Low and behold, it's 7:18 pm...he hasn't even called).  How his band has scheduled so many shows I'm fighting for time to spend with him.
But he cancels all the calorie counting I can do out. I guess that's what love is. It covers obsessions.

I shouldn't have to fight for time with him, huh.  He says he wants space...and I guess I'll give that to him.

I won't call him.
I won't answer his calls.
And I'll make it very obvious I'm unavailable to him.

It's horrible I'm looking for revenge on this.  but I've cried every night for a week, and nothing changes.  If he called me sobbing, I'd drop everything and change for him; obviously I mean a little less to him.

I doubt he knows about my tennis tournaments.  I wonder if he thinks about me in the day.  I haven't talked to him in the past couple of days to even tell him that I've got some bruises from fainting.  Like I'll actually tell him.  He'll get pissed, and it will be the 6th night of screaming and crying.

I'm doing key club, drama, and tennis next year. I'll make myself so busy that we won't even talk at night.
And let's see how that feels, Ian.  let's see how it is when you wait from 9 until midnight hoping for a call, but knowing that you're fucking stupid because you can't depend on them anymore.
Like how I can't depend on you. How I don't trust a single word you say.  Like how 'You'd quit the band'.  How you'd 'see me tomorrow' 'call me tonight'

you're fucking shit and you're fucking stupid because none of it happens.  I'm not saying that you have to talk to me every goddamn night for three hours, just be true to your word.  If you're saying you're going to see me, then don't tell me that and fucking change your mind 'Because band needed to practice again'

You're giving me half a mind to cheat on you.
Dump you.
And tell your sorry ass about it.

When I say that you make it difficult to love you, don't act offended. Don't act like you're confused about how this could happen.  It's very obvious, wonderful darling; don't tell me you love me and then say 'band is something that I've always wanted. Regardless if you're in my life or not'

Every day, you steal a piece of my heart. I'm not saying that to be cliche, or to sound dramatic..It's fucking true.  Every night I wait up for you, and am so tired I could be put in a coma, but I won't let myself sleep because I just want to say 'I love you, sweet dreams'.  Then I start to cry because I miss you and because you didn't call until midnight, so now I can't talk to you.
Every day, I wake up, knowing that I won't see you.  We'll talk for an hour at night, forty minutes will be me crying, and twenty will be me attempting to finally get off the phone.  I don't wear make up when I know I won't see you.  I won't straighten my hair.

You don't know how much you mean to me, momo.  And if I told you, you'd tell me that i'm fucking obsessive and clingy. So I shut up. But when I'm lying on my bed, crying, debating if killing myself would hurt a little less, I just want to hold you.
I just want to feel your heart beat in my ear, I want to feel the warmth from your skin, and hear your voice say that you love me.  I want to fall asleep with you, to brush the hair out of your face, to feel your hands hold mine.

So after bitching. I change. All the times you break my heart up with your fucking hammer, I'll collect the pieces. I'll rebuild myself in steel. And I won't care about you anymore.
I won't care that my boyfriend is gone.
I won't worry that he could be in a car accident.
I won't need to talk to him.

And I'll be me again. Without you. During the school year, I bet it'll get worse. And that's why I have six thousand things in my life to keep me busy; if things get worse. I'm dumping Ian.

Because not even he can fucking put me through that twice.

Someday Momo, I hope you know what this feels like. And I hope you remember me and regret with every inch of your being for hurting me.

natalie 

I'm sick.  Or if I'm not sick yet, I'll be getting sick soon.
I'll make myself sick.

it's started again.  I don't know why. And I don't know who's going to read this, or why they'll care, or if they even will.
Just don't yell at me this time, okay? Don't change my life, and don't threaten me.  Because, bottom line is, i can do without you. You're not that important in my life, and if you become an inconvenience, you'll become history. I have what i need in my life. It's called pro-ana.

It's simple really. Don't change me. Don't scream at me. Don't call me fucking stupid. Because I know what I'm doing, and I know how dangerous this might get.  All I need for you to do is to listen; this will be a warning.

Currently I weigh 120. one hundred and twenty fucking pounds of fat and cellulite and disgusting.  I've gotten sick of it.  I look in the mirror every morning, and i see all of these damned curves. Curves that make a woman a woman.
I'm not a woman. I won't be a woman.  I want to be more than a woman.  I want to be beautiful, I want to be one of those girls that you walk by on the street and have to slow your pace just to look at them. I want people to look twice at me.  I want to be loved. I want to finally be in control of what's happening. I want my bones to show.  I want to be perfect. I want to be striving for something.
And I'm striving for 102 pounds. 102 is no curves. 102 is size 1 jeans.  102 is a Small.  102 is graceful, elegant, perfect. It's achieving nothing but bones, lean muscle, and skin. It's pure like air. 102 is no curves on the hips, it's the space between your thighs. 102 is counting your ribs.

It's what I'll be.

This is how I'll get through AP bio this year. This is how I'll handle Ian and his fucking band. This is how I'll keep my grades soaring. How I'll be in clubs. How I'll make the tennis team. How I'll do community service and how I'll make it into the best college.
Because I'll  be controlling it now.

It's very comfortable to be like this again.  I have my meals planned out the day before, each one 900 calories and below.  I should lose around a pound or two a week. Healthy, and not noticeable.  I live without chocolate, and processed fats. I live clean.
I don't stress or worry anymore.  All I can think about is calories. Food. it's like I'm a fucking calculator, always computing what I've ate, and how much will the next be. Making sure it's under 900.  I know calories of all basic food groups.
Ask me. I'll stun you.

Well, I do know what set me off. It was called a 'Brownie Earthquake' It was at Dairy Queen. It was what I'd indulge in if I ate sweets. It was four days ago.  It had icecream, marshmallow creme, two brownies, oreo pieces, and whip cream.  Easily 1300 calories.
And I ate it. All of it. I have a control problem when it comes to eating food. That's how I know I can control myself when I'm not eating food.
My stomach hurt, I could physically feel the fat and sugar diffusing into my thighs. Making them curve. Making them shoot up to a size 11. Making them fat. And dimpled. And disgusting.
So I had to throw it up. No way you live with that kind of mentality.  And I felt...simple. I felt clean on the inside. I felt the way perfection is.  And loved it.

So out came the journals, the food diaries, the punishments, the exercises.  And it's all working out fantastic.
First couple of days are always rocky, always fucking breaking your limit.  But I handled the situation with 4 miles of running.  And feel better.

I'm sleeping now.  Quite alot, actually. The only time I'm not computing calories and sit ups is when I'm unconscious.  I can rest then, I don't need to be so busy.  Sure I get a little dizzy between breakfast and dinner. Maybe I get irritable and callous when people ask me questions.
But this is worth it in ways you won't understand.

Now all I have to do is wait.
And I'll be beautiful.  And people will want me.  You wouldn't know the difference between joy and pain if you never knew what pain was.
So I'm taking pain right now. This hurts, but it becomes muted.  I'll take this pain, and then I'll be happy.

It always works.
Forever and ever.

Most of this was said as a finality.
Make remarks to me about how stupid I am, or corner me on this. You. will. only. make. me. worse.

I'm happy. Leave me be.
love and thinspiration,
    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   &nbs p;   Natalie