Really. Go.

(Whaddup Ben, how are things if/when you read this?) Ok so I don't even know where to start here because wowie. I am ANGRY. MAD. UPSET. And all of those other things. Because here I was flirting with this guy I've known off and on for a while. He's an awesome guy. He had dated my old friend in the past, and had cheated on her and they had broken up when I first really met him. Over some months we lost most touch with each other, and they got back together. We started talking with each other again about a month ago. Watching the sunrise like we used to, and all that. Things are going well and I very much want to like, sleep with him because I'm picking up those vibes and don't really care if he cheats on her (more on that later though). Anyways we go to a dinner theater production and he meets all of my dance friends and instantly hits it off when them, which is an awesome sign. So then we go park on this fun lil hill somewhere in Klam where I proceed to give probably the most awesome blowjob ever (thanks, periodddd). Anyways though it was great and wholesome and we even had some great conversation after. Anyways we stay in contact over thanksgiving break. Then we set up a time to hang out again. And it's ridiculously clear that we'll be fucking. So I'm like yeah, lets hang out after you get off work! He picks me up an hour later. Which is fine. Except he fucking parks like three houses down? Like it's some sneaky thing?? I literally had permission to be out and even spend the night wherever I was going, so that felt fucking weird. Maybe it's because I was pretty fucking high but it felt iffy. Then if that isn't bad enough, he says his roommates have a few people over right now, so he rented a hotel room. A FUCKING HOTEL ROOM. That was. Iffy as hell but not in a rapey way or anything, just felt weird. But whatever, we go to our Lil hotel room, and it's nice, and the sex is incredible and great, and we both fall asleep for like and hour or so after. Then he wakes up in a like, mild panic saying he has to go home because he's got work at 6. Which also WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT THEN?? And he's like acting really annoyed like this whole thing was a complete inconvenience to him. So. That was awesome for my self-esteem. Now, ever since then (and it was about 5 days ago or so), he's doing the one text a day thing. That thing where people only text you once in a day, and usually so late that you're too tired to carry out a conversation? Yeah I'm PISSED. And I want to tell him and talk it out and know why he's acting like he wishes I didn't exist, but I feel like it's not my place. I just hate waiting in limbo for a text that has nothing to do with what I actually want to talk about. Anyways idk the thing is that I feel bad about him cheating on her, but I'm trying not to, because then it's like getting hurt twice. I'm not some super attractive, beautiful person that's just completely irresistible and that made him cheat. I'm just available and easy and fucking gullible I guess, so if it wasn't me, it could have been anyone else. He didn't cheat because he liked me, he cheated because he cheated and I just happened to be here in the right place at the right time. I wish people valued me outside of sex though. I wish it was possible to have someone actually like me and care about me but also would sleep with me. I don't want the two to be mutually exclusive, because when they are, I only ever have one, and that's the valued-for-sex choice.

That was over dramatic. But that’s how I feel I guess? I don’t know. Haven’t written one of these in a while because I haven’t had the motivation. So maybe this’ll be a long one. Let’s find out!!! Externally, all of the events in my life are going up! You’re acing your high school classes! College classes are going great! You got hired as the new mentor and are now working your first real paying job, three hours a week! You can sleep again! Your friends are happy and in relationships and are overall great! Everything is headed up and there’s no stopping it! But internally, everything is spiraling down and I’m not sure if there’s an end. Well, no, I know there’s an end. But I want the end of all this to happen where I’m still living. Not that I have any desire to be alive right now, I just don’t have enough materials to make a death certain. It’s way too risky, and if I fucked it up, life from there on out would be hell. Literal hell, as in “it’s a sin to kill yourself, so we made what you’ll wake up to be all of your wildest nightmares”. I’m on some sleep meds now. Not sure if I mentioned that in my last post and I’m not feeling like checking. It’s an antidepressant but the side effects can work as a sleep med. I feel drugged all the time when I’m on it. I’m not supposed to skip doses because you get really bad withdrawal symptoms from it. I’m doing that anyways and saving up at least every other dose. Yesterday was the one year anniversary of when kale and I broke up. Not really sad, not really happy, just… Observant I guess. He’s certainly not the one that caused all this, but that just marked the beginning of my life becoming one big fuck up. Interesting to know that it’s been a year now. I went to church. Last year the 10th was on a Saturday, and I had to face church the next day. Haven’t seen kale at church since. Anyways, the only time I heard a voice in my head, like REALLY heard one, was about six months ago, an it was a scream that lasted two seconds, max. Then at church yesterday, I heard a voice again. Or maybe it was a few voices. It sounded like a few people were whispering right behind my ear. Only for a second. So I’ve started cutting myself. God, I almost want to erase that because I hate the way it sounds. Like some love-deprived middle schooler who only listens to scream-o who just wants attention and dies her hair a different color of black every month. I hate it. I don’t know why I do it. And I feel like I’m not actually doing it. I’m not doing it for some sort of “release” or something like that… I just. Do it. I’ve got this little tiny journal and a disposable jewelry box that’s slightly bigger, and they’re stacked and tied up in fabric ribbon, like a present. The journal is rather empty. The box has some razors, the nice note that Megan wrote me, part of a naval compass my dad gave me, an old pin, and the meds I’m saving. It started as an innocent collection, but here we are. I woke up this morning and I had a horrible headache. I never get headaches. It was so bad that I could hardly roll over without feeling like I’d vomit. Missed my classes. Slept in until 1. Then felt slightly better. Good enough to go to my dance class. I’m on pointe 3 hours a week now, and I love it. I don’t know what’s happening to me (that’s been what’s running through my head this week). I can’t stop eating. I eat so much. At LEAST 700 calories a day. And I don’t get it. My body is getting bigger. I’m classified as chubby now, instead of slim. But my weight is at 96.5… That’s my lowest. I don’t get how it’s possible. Ben if you read this, I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you. I love you a lot but I can’t think of what to say or how to say it and it’s all really hard. Also please don’t think I’m crazy. I really am not, it just sort of sounds like I am. Hope you’re well. Love you.

Went home, had to eat dinner, purged dinner, took an actual shower, tried to go to bed, cried a ton. Overall, I’ll give it a 6/10. Would day again. 

THIS PHOTO. This photo gives me the kind of feelings that you can't use words to explain. Makes me feel things about life and just sort of explains what life is and what life isn't.

… Is the most-used phrase of my week. Life can be going so well and then suddenly all the things that were going well turn against you into one monstrous fuck-up. So I talked about wanting a cat. A simple request. A simple request that my mom doesn’t want to listen to. Which bums me out a ton, but I don’t like arguing with her so I’ve stopped. I was telling my friend and her mom (or Real Mom, as I’ve come to semi-jokingly refer to her as) about my wishes for a cat and my continuous lack of said cat. So my friend, being the sweet and loving person she is, goes about secretly finding me a cat. He mom is all on board, and is really pumped to get me a cat. They text my mom today, asking her if they can please surprise me with it since they know I’ve been going through some stuff lately. And all hell is let loose to roam about the calm plains of my life. My mom calls my dad (who always keeps the phone on speakerphone), to tell him about how I lied to my friend and her mother about having problems. Her head is so far buried in her ass that she automatically assumes that I’ve lied to my friend and her mom to get a cat. Because there’s NO POSSIBLE WAY that I, the BEST mother of ALL TIME, could POSSIBLY raise a child who has some PROBLEMS! But hey, here we are. Anyways, I overhear her telling this all to my father over the phone, which is when I walk into the room and decide to join the conversation. So that was that. Until tonight when I go shopping for pants (in the child’s section, mind you. This is what I’m reduced to). Jed asks if the pet bed she’s buying is for the “new cat”. To which she asks me where he heard about it. I told him he overheard her telling dad all about it. She tells me that she never told dad about anything cat-related, and only told me once I was talking to her. Which is very untrue. She proceeds to tell me in front of the checkout attendants, that I’m an embarrassment, and that she can’t ever take me anywhere. Days Since Mom Has Made Me Cry In Public: 0. As if this isn’t bad enough, my sleep habits come up when I order a decaf coffee at McDonalds. She tells me that OxyContin (Which she, the all-knowing medical transcriptionist, pronounces as Oxy-Co-Done) makes people stay up. Then she says, trying SO hard to be casual about it, “Megan isn’t giving you any Oxy-Co-Done, is she?” Fuck. You. Fuck You, You Pathetic Piece Of Shit Who Made My Best Friend of 11 Years So Mad At You That She No Longer Feels Conformable In My Home With You. Fuck You For Having No Trust In Me And Yet Continuously Betraying Mine. And Most Of All Fuck You For Being So Judgmental That You Believe My Friend Who Attempted Suicide Is Giving Me Pills So I Can Do The Same. She’s the one who’s begging me to get help and checking in on me every single day, and you’re the one finds the thought of me having problems so completely appalling that you’d rather believe I’m lying about them. Guess what mom? In a week, it’ll mark the one year anniversary of my restricting. I haven’t eaten over 1000 calories per day in a fucking year now. How’s that for an observant parent, hmm? And after all this, I start the most jam-packed and outright stressful term of my life. So, fuck her, fuck this, and fuck me. I hope I fucking die from all the stress.

We were also smart enough to make a time lapse of our puzzle. She edited it and it's cool as heck okay I mean wow

Here's the puzzle!!! Along with the three missing pieces we found the next morning.... Daniel Merriam is awesome. This piece was called "Handle on Rejection". And I love that.

I know it was bad alright but I liked it. So today is 2016. Wow. I remember exactly what I was doing this time of year last year. I was screaming at my loved ones about not having an eating disorder and I was crying a lot. So I suppose this year was an improvement upon the last. I did something entirely new last night for my "celebration". An adult friend who I haven't seen in a while invited me to a burning bowl and drumming ceremony at her church. I brought Megan since she's friends with her too, and Ronnie, since her and Kim (the friend) are friends also. So we had a quick potluck (which I purged successfully because I am shit) and we wrote a list of all the things we wanted to leave in 2015. Then we ripped them all up, put them in a bowl, and set it on fire. We chanted and sang songs and it was really nice. We went into the church part of the building and all picked instruments. We did different chants to the beat of out instruments and it was really really cleansing. The one that stuck with me was "Om Namah Shivaya" which translates roughly to mean "I honor the divinity within myself". I loved it all. It was interesting... I think I may want to join that church. It's really different from what I've ever been in, but it all felt really right. Megan and I went home and, along with her family, we worked on my puzzle that I may have mentioned earlier. It took us 8 hours, but by 6 am we finished it. It was pretty nice. This morning we started a new puzzle, and then I went home. I've eaten pretty well, until I didn't. I had a granola bar for 150 cals, and miso soup for 35. I've recently lowered my intake to 500 a day. I've lost a pound now, so that's nice. I have to go shopping for new pants now, this time in the kids section. My friend Megan gave me a pair that she thought would fit me better than my baggy size 00's, and they did. They were a kids size 8. Interesting. They're too short, but the waist and legs are perfect. I'll just have to start rolling up my pants to look like capris. I just had a donut at my father's suggestion, so I feel like shit. I'm going to shower and purge. I'd love to hit my first goal weight soon. I'm only two lbs away now.

Septum piercing I got done yesterday, as promised. It's a flip-up ring so my mom won't know 😇

The puzzle that was mentioned in the earlier post was by Daniel Merriam. I saw the debut of his series, "Bubble Street" about two years ago in SF and fell in love with this piece (this isn't the puzzle one) as soon as I saw it. Today I realized why. So my icon and my cover page for this blog are two of my most favourite pictures I've ever seen, and think all the time about how I wish there was some way to combine them. Today I was looking though some art and I remembered this. On second look, I realize that the reason I love it so much is because it combines the two things perfectly. And I didn't know it until two years later

Well, fuck me. (The sentence that's my new constant personal narrative). I went to Eugene with my best friend for two days and had two days packed full of fun. I ate "normally" both days because she wanted me to, and it fucked me up. I feel so fucking fat and filthy. I bought myself some water pills and took an OD of them this morning before the trip home. Eugene was therapeutic otherwise. Spent time at Morning Glory, bought old postcards and ephemera. Found a puzzle that was of one of my favourite paintings, and stayed up 8 straight hours trying to finish it in the hotel. Bought a new Moleskine (finally). It was carefree and fun for the most part. So today, after not contacting Laura for almost a month (I'm sad and couldn't do it okay), she texts me to tell me she's started dating someone. Which I'm very happy about! I really am, she deserves to be dating someone and Ryan is completely the right person for her right now. It just brought me back to the thing I've been trying to forget; that I really am made to be alone. Which sounds really really dramatic but fuck it, it's not even how I feel anymore, but more just a fact that I know. I am a shitty person to date, even if people could get past my lack of looks. The really screwy part is that I want to date? I do and I don't. I want affection, but I know I'm not meant to have it and will ultimately reject it. It's fucked. I have an interview for student body senator at KCC tomorrow morning. I think I know what I'm doing to myself here. I signed up for 12 units at KCC, along with high school courses, and now I'm interviewing for a 5+ hr a week position at KCC. I can't sleep anymore, so I'm seeing a doc in a day or so (last appt didn't work out) to get sleeping meds prescribed. I already plan on having him eventually up the dose and stashing some. I'm making it easier and giving myself good reason to end it all in the future. My friend Megan, whom I went to Eugene with, gave me her DBT workbook to use for myself. It's full of quizzes and self-assessments and such that you are supposed to see the answers to and use them for helping yourself. My problem is that I have no real desire to get better at all. Because I'm positive that I don't have a real disorder or illness. I definitely am making it all up. So I don't see why getting a real therapist other than my friends' therapist (whom her and her mom have made me promise to text occasionally) would do me any good. The therapist would just say "You're a sick hypochondriac! Have a nice day!". So it's all pointless, but I promised I'd text and do the workbook, so here I am. My nose is feeling fresh from the soak, and I'm beyond thirsty right now from the water pills. I guess I'm done here.

The art itself is by the beautiful Laura Tuazon. Can’t link to her blog because I’m not allowed to share it, also I don’t want her finding this blog. Modeling the pose is me, accidentally.

This the oak tree with me outside the student union (or the pilot house) at University of Portland. It is big and beautiful and I can't visit the uni without paying respects to my tree friend

Yes I am Vegeta here no that isn't my real hairline yes I am actually feminine sometimes no obviously not right now

So today was interesting. I set up two friends. All I did was tell me friend about my other friend, and tell him they'd be sweet together. Hours later they're watching movies at her home. I love that I can make others happy but hate that I can't make that happen for me. Why? I want happiness too. I haven't been able to fall asleep before 4 am for nearly 2 weeks now. I hate it. I think it could be a side problem from my eating habits? That's a whole nother story right there. Anyways tomorrow I'm waking up early to call my doctor and schedule an appointment. I need to get on something and get some sleep before my winter term starts at the uni. I'm taking 12 units there, plus 7 high school classes. I'm adding a yoga class with my friend, and possibly a Tai Chi class. I need to be on something soon. I plan on rationing my pills when I get them. They won't be a huge dose at first, but I'll have them up it over time. I'll only take a pill every other night or something like that, and save the others in my box of saving items. I don't plan on using them soon, but it's good to have a stash just in case things get bad. I'm fairly sure I don't have an eating disorder at all. I go through fucking cycles I swear. I ate nothing but a clementine until about 5:30. Then I ate an entire bag of chocolate and some fake bacon. Didn't purge any of it. Took a ten minute cold shower though. Doesn't make up for my lack of self-control at all, but at least it burned a few calories. My mom put the scale from our farm home in this house. I'm excited, but worried. I haven't weighed myself in a couple weeks because I was sure I gained. I usually only use my dad's scale. This scale says I dropped 3 lbs, but I think it's a difference in scales. I'll find my accurate weight once I go to the doc tomorrow. I still only see myself getting fatter. I've somehow lost 12 lbs that I can't fucking see. Great. Helped my friend ask her boyfriend out to Winter Formal today, I was dressed as Vegeta. I'll add a picture of that in a bit. Not super exciting. I managed to resist the cookies and hot coco and went for water instead. That's all for this this paper. I think South Africa is very misrepresented in the media. And I hope Bernie becomes president with Elizabeth Warren as his running mate. The world is fucked up big time.

Breasts honestly are so artsy and I am a proud model and photographer of them