Food; parties; self-destruction; admission dates

I am so fucking ashamed of the way I ate at my uncle's 50th birthday party tonight.

On the other hand, singing karaoke was surprisingly fun.

So I guess it sorta balanced? Sorta being the key word. But at least it wasn't all bad, I suppose.

Besides, I purged before and after. That ought to count for something. Maybe.


I'm in such a volatile mood. All I want is to destroy myself. Destroy destroy destroy. Problem is -- I'm not sure how to do that anymore. Or, rather, to word that properly... I'm not sure how I want to do that anymore. All I know is that I want to do it. Really, really badly. Which isn't good, of course; but isn't that part of the reason why I'm supposed to enter treatment?

The place that sends admission dates [to my case manager] had not yet sent mine on Friday afternoon. It will be at least Tuesday before I can phone back and ask if the admission date has been sent yet. I was told this would be done by late January. Tuesday will be February SIXTH.

Life clearly really fucking hates me... and I really fucking hate it. So I guess we're even.