just come back from the gym.
I decided.
After being such a good boy at working out until my arms and legs are sore. I earned my right to purge.
I feel so distressed.
She understood how I felt. Now she's gone. I cannot emphasise how special and important and significant it was for me to be understood. How wonderful it felt to be understood...and cared for.
Now I'm alone. and I just want to scream. I just want to scream until the skies break.
I'M ALONE!
I shall say.
WHEN WILL I BE GOOD ENOUGH?
I'm not there yet, but every time I get up from being knocked down, and move forward more and more, I shall ever skirt nearer.
I've worked it out. I need to be perfect.
That's the only way. I am not sure why it has to be this way, but I feel this must be so. I must be perfect.
If I'm perfect maybe if she comes back, she will care for me again.
If I'm perfect maybe I will be happy
If I'm perfect maybe the pain will go away
If I'm perfect maybe, somehow, I can't work out how or why or any details of this...I feel it will all be okay...no worries, no distress, no problems, just bliss.
It's skirting to an illusion isn't it?
I have this deep feeling inside of me, this deep need. I don't know how to express it or even how to articulate it.
The only way I can cope with this deep emptiness, this deep despair, this deep need, is to try and fit this need to something. I need to be better.
Things gotten bad
Its my fault
If I were better then I might be competent enough not to make mistakes and make things bad:
: therefore, I must improve
I was never good at practical reasoning.
I earned my purge.
I don't care what you say, I need this. I have to have this. I have nothing else. I have nothing else to hold on to.
EVERYTHING IS TO BE FOUGHT FOR WHEN NOTHING IS HERE TO STAY
All I can hold on to is the comfort I get in harming myself.
All I can hold on to is the feeling of relief that comes when I purge, the feeling of Mia cuddling me, stroking my hair, telling me it's going to be alright, gently, she wipes the tears from my cheek, my face is soft, delicate, perfect alabaster skin, my skin is not moist but not dry, the perfect texture of softness and sensuality, my body is perfect, my comfort complete.
I want to hold onto that feeling...beauteous imagery aside.
The other reality of Mia is this...it's not a cuddle, it's that God-awful smell, that smell of burning death that emanates from the toilet bowl, my hands sore, my throoad burning, I desperately push my fingers down my throat in the broken hope, the striving will to achieve relief. Begging mia to come to me, begging her to comfort me. I NEED YOU, I say with my fingers as they massage my tonsils. I feel the rise coming. I feel so used to it, I expect it, I hope for it, the orgasm of hope arises. GUSH! Out it comes from within my depths, the beautiful, ugly, horrid, hopeful, despairing, joyful, disgusting, cuddly, lonely, friendly, exhausting, motivating mush of my past meal, the acid gleans my throat. It's a good sign of progress if the acid burns my throat. I like it when I purge so much that my throat hurts to the end that my voice changes. That gives me a real sense of achievement. I do it for you, Mia; because I need you. I am so desperate for hope and joy, that those things have left me completely, and all I have is the empty desire of that which does not refer. The hope for that I can never have. The desire for some kind of happiness when I know happiness cannot be sought or found.
And after the purging goes away, my mood temporarily of elation fades; I am back on earth, Mia is nowhere to be found, my stomach is empty, no more contributions or sacrifices I am able to give her, so I cannot summon her. I feel miserable again, or do I? Maybe I feel miserable, but I feel a little sense of...not being as bad. It's a feeling of misery, but misery is at least one step up from despair.
I don't care if it takes my life. I need this. Marie is gone. Get over it, is what someone hard on me but realistic should say.
Get over it; some other girl might come one day.
I fucking hell doubt it. No one compares to Marie, not even Mia...
but...maybe I can live in misery with Mia, than complete dispair without Marie....
Therefore, purging is good...purging is my solution...
Misery is what I feel; but, it's one up from suicidal despair...perhaps this is as good as it gets...i'm not unlucky. I accept this. Why can't you accept what I do too? Why can't you accept that I need this?? That the doctors make my body go fat with their fucking drugs; they make me drowsy so I can't do uni work; they make it worse for me for drugs that do everything but make me better.
How fucking dare any of you say that I am irresponsible. How fucking dare any of you say that what I'm doing is wrong. It's not fair for you to say that. I have no other way out...unless you want me to kill myself, I'm assuming you want my wellbeing...so let me purge. Please let me purge....
7
I can't cope with all of these things.
I want to be an academic, I want to be called 'Doctor', I want the perfect body, I want the world to be alright, I want Marie to be okay, I want Marie....
I want just to collapse, I feel so weak, the sound of the kitchen taunts me.
I want just to have no strength in my body, not even to move, to type, just to faint, to collapse, so that I cannot physically move on, and I will be under the will of nature, if I am incapable, then it cannot be my fault....
I want to faint, to collapse, to drop in complete exhaustion and bodily nutritional depletion, to destroy my body and tear it to shred s from the inside, so that I will never wake up again. I will be captured in Mia's sleep; Mia's cuddle, forever...that's the closest thing to love I can ever have now...
Take me away from here, to a better place.
I feel my tummy rumbling now...feels so painful...I wouldn't have it any other way. I have to hold on to hunger for my dear life. It's all I have that is permanent, I need to hold on to this hunger, this starvation, it's going to pull me through out of this nightmare. It's going to make everything better. Marie is gone, but I'm still here. Starving myself gives me the only hope I have, the hope that I can change things, the hope that I can improve myself. It's only my body, but it's a start.
I decided.
After being such a good boy at working out until my arms and legs are sore. I earned my right to purge.
I feel so distressed.
She understood how I felt. Now she's gone. I cannot emphasise how special and important and significant it was for me to be understood. How wonderful it felt to be understood...and cared for.
Now I'm alone. and I just want to scream. I just want to scream until the skies break.
I'M ALONE!
I shall say.
WHEN WILL I BE GOOD ENOUGH?
I'm not there yet, but every time I get up from being knocked down, and move forward more and more, I shall ever skirt nearer.
I've worked it out. I need to be perfect.
That's the only way. I am not sure why it has to be this way, but I feel this must be so. I must be perfect.
If I'm perfect maybe if she comes back, she will care for me again.
If I'm perfect maybe I will be happy
If I'm perfect maybe the pain will go away
If I'm perfect maybe, somehow, I can't work out how or why or any details of this...I feel it will all be okay...no worries, no distress, no problems, just bliss.
It's skirting to an illusion isn't it?
I have this deep feeling inside of me, this deep need. I don't know how to express it or even how to articulate it.
The only way I can cope with this deep emptiness, this deep despair, this deep need, is to try and fit this need to something. I need to be better.
Things gotten bad
Its my fault
If I were better then I might be competent enough not to make mistakes and make things bad:
: therefore, I must improve
I was never good at practical reasoning.
I earned my purge.
I don't care what you say, I need this. I have to have this. I have nothing else. I have nothing else to hold on to.
EVERYTHING IS TO BE FOUGHT FOR WHEN NOTHING IS HERE TO STAY
All I can hold on to is the comfort I get in harming myself.
All I can hold on to is the feeling of relief that comes when I purge, the feeling of Mia cuddling me, stroking my hair, telling me it's going to be alright, gently, she wipes the tears from my cheek, my face is soft, delicate, perfect alabaster skin, my skin is not moist but not dry, the perfect texture of softness and sensuality, my body is perfect, my comfort complete.
I want to hold onto that feeling...beauteous imagery aside.
The other reality of Mia is this...it's not a cuddle, it's that God-awful smell, that smell of burning death that emanates from the toilet bowl, my hands sore, my throoad burning, I desperately push my fingers down my throat in the broken hope, the striving will to achieve relief. Begging mia to come to me, begging her to comfort me. I NEED YOU, I say with my fingers as they massage my tonsils. I feel the rise coming. I feel so used to it, I expect it, I hope for it, the orgasm of hope arises. GUSH! Out it comes from within my depths, the beautiful, ugly, horrid, hopeful, despairing, joyful, disgusting, cuddly, lonely, friendly, exhausting, motivating mush of my past meal, the acid gleans my throat. It's a good sign of progress if the acid burns my throat. I like it when I purge so much that my throat hurts to the end that my voice changes. That gives me a real sense of achievement. I do it for you, Mia; because I need you. I am so desperate for hope and joy, that those things have left me completely, and all I have is the empty desire of that which does not refer. The hope for that I can never have. The desire for some kind of happiness when I know happiness cannot be sought or found.
And after the purging goes away, my mood temporarily of elation fades; I am back on earth, Mia is nowhere to be found, my stomach is empty, no more contributions or sacrifices I am able to give her, so I cannot summon her. I feel miserable again, or do I? Maybe I feel miserable, but I feel a little sense of...not being as bad. It's a feeling of misery, but misery is at least one step up from despair.
I don't care if it takes my life. I need this. Marie is gone. Get over it, is what someone hard on me but realistic should say.
Get over it; some other girl might come one day.
I fucking hell doubt it. No one compares to Marie, not even Mia...
but...maybe I can live in misery with Mia, than complete dispair without Marie....
Therefore, purging is good...purging is my solution...
Misery is what I feel; but, it's one up from suicidal despair...perhaps this is as good as it gets...i'm not unlucky. I accept this. Why can't you accept what I do too? Why can't you accept that I need this?? That the doctors make my body go fat with their fucking drugs; they make me drowsy so I can't do uni work; they make it worse for me for drugs that do everything but make me better.
How fucking dare any of you say that I am irresponsible. How fucking dare any of you say that what I'm doing is wrong. It's not fair for you to say that. I have no other way out...unless you want me to kill myself, I'm assuming you want my wellbeing...so let me purge. Please let me purge....
7
I can't cope with all of these things.
I want to be an academic, I want to be called 'Doctor', I want the perfect body, I want the world to be alright, I want Marie to be okay, I want Marie....
I want just to collapse, I feel so weak, the sound of the kitchen taunts me.
I want just to have no strength in my body, not even to move, to type, just to faint, to collapse, so that I cannot physically move on, and I will be under the will of nature, if I am incapable, then it cannot be my fault....
I want to faint, to collapse, to drop in complete exhaustion and bodily nutritional depletion, to destroy my body and tear it to shred s from the inside, so that I will never wake up again. I will be captured in Mia's sleep; Mia's cuddle, forever...that's the closest thing to love I can ever have now...
Take me away from here, to a better place.
I feel my tummy rumbling now...feels so painful...I wouldn't have it any other way. I have to hold on to hunger for my dear life. It's all I have that is permanent, I need to hold on to this hunger, this starvation, it's going to pull me through out of this nightmare. It's going to make everything better. Marie is gone, but I'm still here. Starving myself gives me the only hope I have, the hope that I can change things, the hope that I can improve myself. It's only my body, but it's a start.
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