Lying hurts so much. And yet it’s all I can do to the people I love.

I had salad for lunch.
And watermelon for dinner.

So I brought myself five crackers to enjoy while I got high as a reward? I’m having a hard time convincing myself to even have one. I’m more compelled to throw them in the drawer so I’ll forget about them, and I may do just that.

These are the times when my disorder makes me feel like a complete child and a freak. The times that I realize I don’t have anorexia, anorexia has me.

God I’m a fucking idiot. Excuse me, please while I cry for a bit until I’m too high to care.

Fuck.

I can’t even describe how much I need you right now. I’m sorry.

On days like this I tend to just lay in bed and listen to Explosions in the Sky

I’m trying to keep my heart open instead of getting sucked back in.

So this is a long time in coming, and the last time I wrote a long post was basically to say goodbye to all of you. I was ready to die. I was dying. This is different.

For those of you who may not know, I spent last week in the hospital following two attempts on my own life Friday night and Monday morning.

Now is the chance for me to give you something that isn’t despair. For the first time in too long. So if you’d like to read, read on.

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I think I’m done. I think I’m ready to die.
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Please don’t take this the wrong way. Please don’t feel concerned or displeased. I’m not ending myself today, and probably not tomorrow. But I’m willing to just fade away. I think I have been for quite some time. I just don’t want to be like this forever, and while the idea exists that I should simply get better, I’ve accepted it on a level of simply not wanting to be around any more. I only want to sleep. And sleep. And sleep.
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I remember watching Dr Phil with my obscenely annoying stepmother when I was in high school about a woman who was eating disordered. The woman would purge into giant ziploc baggies in her closet. She was a mother. Married. Two kids. Her whole family knew and couldn’t get her to stop no matter how hard they tried, and it was tearing all of them apart. Breaking them.
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All I can remember is my stepmother commenting on how selfish and sad it all was. All I can remember thinking is that I hope I’m not still like that when I have a family. Now, here I am. Dating the man I plan to marry if I live long enough to do it. Facing the selfish reality.
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Every day I wake up wanting to do nothing more than to go back to sleep. It isn’t laziness. It’s a fear of living. It’s the burden of breathing and the worthlessness that I bask in at every moment. I don’t know how to do it any more. I’m tired of fighting, and I’m sorry.
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I’m tired of being the one doing the breaking. I’m not the only one that feels my pain. I am loved endlessly and undeservingly, and the pain I feel for living is felt by those that want me only to be alive.
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None of this is what I meant to write. I meant to sit down and just talk about the things on my mind. The things I’ve been feeling. But this is all. Everything. I can only return to a line in one of my plays:
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“It was like… okay. It has. Had to be. Done.”

I’m a wreck.

Dear Ida, by Ann Marie Elliott

i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. i want to fall asleep and never wake up. I’m sorry.

Starting to feel that speedy anxiety in my chest. It’s gonna be quite a night, kids.

The fact that David told me it would react badly with my other medication just makes me want it even more.

What the fuck.

Bathrooms of doctors offices are sad places for ugly girls with eating disorders.