I took the maximum number of laxitive suggested. I feel sick. My stomach feels hot and i feel clamy and like i could puke. 

I gained four pounds this week from being bloated and on my period and not being again to handle my cravings.

All i eat when i do eat is total crap. Junk. Chocolate. Hot dogs (because thats the only food we have in the house). Cheese. 

Thats basically it. But this week i added doughnut holes and mac and cheese because my cramps were so bad i couldnt walk and i woke up at 2am.

I might be subconsciously avoiding my therapist. 

Its scary thinking about working on this. About changing my habits. Yeah i dont like my current methods but its all i have. Its all ive ever had really. And i dont know how to change or get better or what it looks like or if i even can.

And chole and her boyfriend just think im the stereotypical angsty teen whos angry for no reason. He isnt even a part of this family and he gets to quip in with the sardonic comments about how i “look too happy”

I dont know. Its one thing for them to not protect me from each other, but letting an outsider in on it… 

it just doesn’t help anything. It just makes me feel even more of the misfit than i normally do. I know i have a lot of myself to blame for that but he hasn’t even been around a year and its like im the one who should be the stranger in my own house. At Christmas and still today. He fits better than me. 

Ive been secretly hoping maybe i get an ulcer or something. Something to force me to work on my problems for real. But i dont know. 

It gets lonely. I love writing but talking into this virtual notebook gets lonely sometimes. Like right now. I feel like a deflated balloon most of the time.

unforgiving

there’s a solid mass of food sitting in the pit of my stomach

My ears are ringing like windchimes.

i don’t seem to know my limits

cuz i’ve pushed these lines of “healthy” so far out of bounds a few too many times

i do it so often now that i tend to not realize when i’m in it.

the bile leaves my throat raw and numb,

colors the water pale brown,

leaves my mouth sore and glum.

my body’s tired from retching over the cold, porcelain toilet seat.

oftentimes i forget what it’s like not feeling as though

I’m some rotting piece of meat.

I don’t remember what it’s like to not put on this show;

What’s it like to not be playing pretend?

How can I flip this switch and to start to make some amends?

static.

you feel your body start digesting itself.

hands shaking,

shallow breathing,

focus leaving.

how much longer can you go like this?

now last year’s jeans are fitting.

now your stomach grows flatter not fatter.

but when will the shedding weight be enough

to warrant some reward through steady eating?

brittle nails,

breaking hair,

weakening resolve.

this is your bed now.

sleep in it.

but don’t dare eat in it.

this is your grave now.

lie in it.

but don’t dare eat in it.

 

journal entry # who knows

i feel like i don’t fit here. at the dinner table, in this house. There’s a place set for me, a room upstairs for me but it doesn’t feel like I fit here.

sometimes i don’t even feel like i fit with Emily. sometimes I don’t feel like I fit anywhere. and it just hurts. the holidays opens up such a big gap in me. one that i can usually stuff full of other things and people. but you’re supposed to be with your family during the holidays, so i can’t escape it. i can’t just hide from it. even though these people really don’t feel like my family.

i felt like some kind of caged animal tonight.

“gather round, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! it’s the angsty-for-no-reason teen!!! if you can get her to crack her frosty exterior you win 20 tickets!”

i’m not some stupid fucking show.

i’m not just some challenge for you to win and crack.

i’m an actual human having a really hard time finding out how she fits into this “happy family” picture when there are two extra people here.

i’m the odd one out. emily has her boyfriend. chloe has her boyfriend. who do i have now?

it used to be emily but now it’s no one. i have no one.

it’s so small and so stupid but it started with emily not wanting to wrap my presents with me. and we’ve usually done that every year as an excuse to be just ourselves and she didn’t do it this year because “i’m a horrible wrapper!” but i know it was just because she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

and chloe’s boyfriend is constantly at the house. staying the night and taking up space. and he fits better than i do. they both do. how can they both fit better than me when i’ve been here 17 years?? when theyve only both just showed up three months ago??

and what makes it ok for them to think they know whats going on in my head? for chloe’s boyfriend to say “are all teenagers this angry? cuz my brother is too.”

what makes it ok for emily’s boyfriend to insist on getting a photo with me even though i’m clearly not interested? what about doing that is going to make me feel less like the side show attraction who’s apparently just mad and angsty for no reason? who’s apparently just mad because she’s just a teenager? who will supposedly just grow out of this in a few years?

i’m not interested in hearing your stupid sex related jokes that you make because our mom likes them or because you started a dumb competition to make each other blush as much as possible. I’m not interested in watching you be all over each other. i’m not interested in watching strangers get more genuine love, affection, and attention than i ever have in this house. i’m sorry but that just doesn’t sound like a fun thing for me to participate in.

it just hurts. and it sucks feeling like i’m falling back to where i was three years ago. and it sucks feeling like i don’t fit anywhere. it sucks feeling like i don’t have a real family. it sucks coming home to a house that’s so quiet and full of strangers. and it sucks. it just fucking sucks. and i’m so so tired of feeling this way.

i’m tired of having sad christmases. i’m tired of not being happy.

 

The Wrong Puzzle Piece

it feels like someone opened up a puzzle box,

and somehow my piece wandered into this picture.

and now here we are,

smashing and jamming and cramming;

trying so hard to fit me where i can’t.

and everyone tells me “but the picture is so much prettier when you’re in it!”

but i don’t understand how it can be so pretty,

when all it does is hurt.

is christmas over yet? i’d really like for it to be done.