I'm so.. detached today. Things don't quite seem focused/real. Concentration is hard. I don't know if it's from fatigue, or because my therapy session today drained me, or what.

I do know that things are worse mentally. I am having a harder time dealing with all my stupid bullshit. I am so tired of the eating disorder, the things inside of me that I hate, all of it, but I can't face any of it. I want to run... but I know I can't run if I ever want to get truly better, because I've been running since I was 15, and running only makes me worse and worse and worse. In essence, in order for the fire to die, I have to walk through it, let it sear my flesh, let it tear me open, scream with the pain of it... and then when I am finally through the fire, all the worst parts will be burned away, and I can be healed. Or at least I think that's what's supposed to happen.

But I don't want to face my demons. I don't want to really, fully realize that I have a dark side that wants a place in my brain and body and soul. I don't want to be an adult -- sexual, knowing and enjoying the pleasurable, callous, dirty side of life. I don't want to acknowledge the desires that I have within myself, the ones that always come back no matter how hard I try to suppress them. So if I won't deal with my shit, and I am tired of playing the running game, what is the answer?

To my brain, the answer is death. I feel like I just don't want to be here anymore. I do not want to deal with this shit. I don't want to deal with anything. I want to kill myself -- whether slowly or quickly (ie, either via the eating disorder, or by ODing or something similar). Whichever way I do it, though, I want to know it is working... I either want to know that my ED is on a constant downward slope, or I want to fucking die already. I'm tired of life. I'm tired of trying to cope. I'm tired of everything.

I told my psychologist the essence of this today, and I felt a little better after saying it... for awhile. But that never lasts, either. So now all I've got left is this stupid fucking head of mine, and the hope that whatever part of me still wants to live and have a real life is going to be strong enough to get me through without drastic measures. I don't want to go through all the stupid shit around ODing again... doing it, getting scared or whatever, telling someone, ending up in hospital, getting medical treatment(s), getting psychiatry consults, being essentially not helped, being discharged. Rinse and repeat times a fucking thousand. I just can't do that right now. I can't. But I know I "shouldn't" lose a lot more weight. But I want to. But I'm not losing anything, because I turn to comfort eating and purging so often. But I can't seem to let myself get medically unstable from the bulimia, either... I'm always replacing things just enough that my body is maintaining itself. So I am also completely fucking failing at any attempt to get rid of myself. And I am, of course, also sick of being a failure.

My head is tearing me completely apart. I don't know what the fuck to do anymore. I am lost. I can't deal. Everything is fucked.