I keep eating extra food. Like, every fucking day. I'm not gaining anything, but I'm not losing anything, either. And it's really frustrating, and also really pissing me off. I'm so frustrated with myself, and with everything, that I actually feel like crying right now.

I can't wait till I go back to school. I can walk around for as long as I want to burn cals, AND I'll have access to a gym, which I want to go to at least twice a week. Maybe exercise will do something for me...

God, I'm pathetic. I used to be so good at this -- and now look at me. Pitiful and desperate and piggy and terrible and fat. Still fat. It's too much to ask to be tiny, apparently. Of everyone I've ever met or talked to, I am the one who most deserves to turn into a walking skeleton -- to become emaciated and weak and barely breathing -- to skip hand in hand with Death as my body decays. So why can't I do it? Why???

I feel like something inside me is going to crack open soon if I can't fix this. And I really don't know what I might do if the last barriers "saving" me break down. Or maybe... maybe that's what I need to do. Maybe I need to lose my last bit of sanity in order to starve. Maybe I need to lose all my fears and self-control, so I can finally fucking die out of it.

I just wish I knew that, if I died, someone would understand why I did it. But I'm not sure anybody would. And that's the worst part -- worse even than the dying. Alone in death as well as alone in life. Then again, I should be used to being alone by now; I've been alone for a really fucking long time. Only I'm not, and I know I never can be.

I've always wanted people to see inside me -- the real me, the part that lies far deeper down than anyone has ever fully seen. But they never have. Ever. And I can't honestly say that I believe anyone will ever want to, let alone be able to.