{Avalanche is sullen, and too thin, she starves herself to rid herself of sin}

{Monday, morning}
In the afternoon I have to go and get signed up for my new school. I'm not thin enough, I'm not smart enough, and I'm just ugly and plain

I hate this.

White, yellow, yellow, yellow, black was my breakfast. Egg white, egg yolk, cheddar cheese, coffee.
180 calories, 320 left for the day.

{So here you are, in your small little world, kept up like a little precious virgin girl}

{Sunday}

We went out shopping at nine and I moved up in sizes. Size 8, long. SIZE FUCKING EIGHT. My thighs are huge, everything jiggles, when I stretch the skin on my legs I can see all the little ripples of fat, I can't believe how much I ate yesterday, fuck fuck fuck it all.

I got four pairs of pants, none of them look good on me and it's fucking hard to zip some of them up, and oh-my-fucking-god, my ASS. My ASS is HUGE. It's all round and flat and it's just DISGUSTING.
And my shirts fit. Never, ever, not since summer have medium-sized shirts fit. They always had extra room, around the waist and the arms and they would hang on me. And my arms, my arms are fucking sausages, they are huge, if you could see them you'd scream, they are fucking HUGE.

We went out to eat at a buffet, I had a yellow plate and I used one spoon and I got diet coke in a medium-sized jar and I had one serving spoon full of rice, mashed potatoes, and fries. White, white, yellow. And I poured salt on everything, salt tastes so good. Had a bite of everything, constantly shaking my leg, looked out the window and ignored everything. Then my mom asked me if that was all I was eating, I said yeah, she said no, I paid for this, thirty-two dollars, you are going to eat more than that. I shook my head. She asked me to go make ice cream for my brothers. No, I can't be near ice cream. I shook my head. I can't have ice cream until my thighs are twenty inches around, each leg, again. She tried to nudge my leg, I just stared out the window. I took all of the Sweet N Low packets they had, and an extra package of saltine crackers, just in case I got hungry or we needed them or something.

After that, she didn't mention it when we got in the car and went to two more stores before we went home.
Then my stepdad came over, and they ate burgers and I said no, I couldn't help it, I wanted to taste something really bad, I hate myself for this, I hate it, I really do.
I ate two fucking burgers, 510 calories each, 1020 calories ONE THOUSAND AND TWENTY FUCKING CALORIES.

I hate this, I fucking hate this, I'm so fat, why would I add more fat to this skin, I want to rip it off and cut off all the fat and muscle and sew it back on.

{.001} {500}

I'm redoing abc, I want to start fresh.
I've had 180 calories so far.

breakfast:
one sunny-side-up egg, 70
--w/cheddar cheese, 1/4 cup, 110

exercise:
40 leg lifts, each leg, -25
10 sit ups, -5
1.15 mile walking, -124.1

I'm treading for my life, believe me, how can I keep up this breathing?

Depression kicks in and instead of homework, I sleep, all day.
Through phone calls, through email conversations, through banging on my door.

I don't care, I don't care, I don't care

I just got expelled from the online school I was going  to, I can't face real people at a real high school, I can't go to the big kid school, I'm going to throw up, I'm shaking just thinking about it, my eyes are watering and my heart is beating too fast
I need to run, I need to exercise, I just need to do something, I can't go to a real school, I can't leave the house, I'm fat I'm fat I'm fat oh my god I need to lose weight when did I get this fat

oh my god, god god god I can't do this

{.001}

Day one of the ABC diet, {500} calories

breakfast: 0
nothing

lunch: 150
broccoli cheese soup

dinner: 320
taco salad

snack: 200
angelfood candy

i burned 200 calories walking after i ate the candy

{intake: 705/500}
{output: 200/705}
{net: 505/500}

i'm going to weigh myself every morning at 5:45 am.

It Frightens You, Because You're Barely Alive

Friday.
Binge Day.[you don't need it, you're fat enough, stop eating you fat little piggy]
{don't listen to her, eating is normal, not too much now though you don't want to get fat, there, that's good}

I awoke to the sound of our seven year old dog, M, barking. At first, my vision was hazy and I couldn't make out the room where I was in. This happens often. (am i home am i outside am i dead where the fuck am i why am i waking up oh my god what is that sound oh it's just the dog okay good calm down now)
I stretched, rolled over, and pulled the covers back over my head. There is something about my bed that makes me feel like a child again. Or maybe it has a sickness-feel, a place where you can go when you are deathly ill and you can stay safe and warm. [you're a fat pig all you do is lay in bed and sleep get the fuck up and start exercising pig] {don't listen to her you're just depressed it's normal it happens all the time it's okay}
I thought about the day. Once a month, Friday is a binge day. The first Friday of each month, it's exciting, to be honest. (i remember, holding in my hands, the source of my guilt: a chicken sandwich, from a fast food restaurant, and i know i was supposed to feel guilty, but all i could do was plan a binge. i would buy 10 chicken sandwiches, 5 cheeseburgers, 5 extra large fries, and 3 diet cokes. binge, then take a package of laxatives to make up for my greediness. [you're a fat pig, really, why did you binge, you shouldn't do that, don't plan these binges, starving is easy lovely, you don't need a thing but water, please stop eating JUST STOP EATING FATTIE] someday i worry that day will come.) I was planning on eating the donuts my mother had brought, then a bowl of mint-oreo-cookie ice cream, then five slices of american cheese, then a bowl of plain melted sharp cheddar cheese, then sneaking into my mother's stash of chocolate candies and eating a handful, then a bowl of Krave, then applesauce, and then a salad with olives and tomatoes and more cheese.
And then I would take laxatives, stay up late, and be silent as I creep down the stairs, unlock the bathroom, turn the light on, and feel the guilt and pain of my binge.
{you shouldn't do this, it isn't normal, remember what happened the last time you took too many? you freaked out, made your heart beat too fast, made yourself dizzy, you couldn't walk, you need to stop taking these things, they don't make you lose weight}
[oh fuck it to hell, anything is worth watching the scale drop]

I binged.
I sat on the couch, skipped school, and binged. And binged. And binged.
(i can't possibly still want to eat, i'm too full, stop eating, please...please stop eating)
As I sat in my room, waiting for the laxatives to kick in, I thought back to a book I had read earlier that day.
"What was my problem? Eating. Eating was definitely a problem. Got to stop eating."
(got to stop eating) [got to stop eating]


I've got to stop eating.

(intake for the day: +3000)
(output for the day: ~150 )