I have found my motivation.
My motivation to fast, to starve, to go to bed and wake up hungry.
To feel light,
And free.
To know that I am doing something.
My motivation to be skinny,
and in control.

I have found my revulsion for myself again,
My strong need to cut.
Once I get back home, into winter,
And I no longer have to wear shorts,
I know my legs will go back to being covered in cuts.
And probably my stomach too.

So far, my dad hasn't noticed the scars on my shoulder. There are 12 perfectly straight ish lines on my left shoulder, and a little farther down, there's 16 more. There is also the word "fat" on my arm.
I think it's funny that if I look at my shoulder, I can see the scars bright as day.
But when I look in the mirror, you can't see them.
I wonder if they'll fade before Cimiron gets here. They should.
What about the new ones I know I'm going to make?

Never mind, I don't want to talk about him.
I'm pissed off, but I don't know why.
I thought I could write it out, but the words won't come.
So again, I'll say nothing.

I don't want to burden people anymore.
I don't want to cry.
I don't want to want to cut every time my dad says something to me.
He is continuously making comments.
Strengthening my resolve to starve when I get home.
I won't forget these comments.
I still remember the ones from 3 years ago.

I feel like if I want to be happy, I have to stop being soo negative.
Simple as that.
Only it's not.
Here, I don't feel like I have to fake smiling, fake happy.
Fake okay.

Everywhere else, with everyone, I do.
I want someone else to tell me things I think about myself.
Someone else to validate what I'm thinking inside.
But I don't even want to write it.
I'm so tired right now.
But I'm afraid to sleep.

I haven't been sleeping well lately. Or I sleep, but not restful sleeping.
I feel like because I am in Hawaii, I'm supposed to be happy, and having a good time.
And while I'm out, doing things, I am. I'm having a good time.
But all too soon it's over, and I'm left inside my head.
A dangerous place to be.
And once I'm in, I can't get out.
I can't escape.

I finished all my homework, what I could anyways.
So no more of that.
I read my book, so nothing there.
I got stung by a jellyfish.
Just my luck, huh?
I didn't mind though.

I want to punch and kick and cut.
I want to break the mirror, while I stare at someone that can't be me,
I want to be normal/
I want to be so skinny, people stare at me.
On a good day, if I suck in my stomach just a little bit, you can see my ribs.
Normally this would mean progress,
But I'm still so fat.
I haven't lost any weight,
And that makes me sink farther and farther into
this shit hole.
The one that I feel like I'm drowning in.

But I always am, aren't I?

I want to delete this blog.
Because all it is is my complaints.
My whining.
I'm so pathetic by putting it out there.
I don't deserve it.
Nobody should be reading this.
Why do you read it anyways?
What makes you want to?
I seriously am curious.

I guess at one time or another, I will have to sleep.
It's 11:30pm here in Hawaii, but in Colorado, it's 2:30.
I wish I could.... I don't know.
So many things I wish.

It's only my second or third day here.
I'm too tired to remember.
Why can't I just be happy?
Enjoy it?
I feel like such an attention seeker.
But writing here, it's the only place I can let that pain out.
So that it doesn't eat me alive.
I've eaten so much since coming here.
And I'm so bloated.
Again, my mind returns to my dads comments.
Ana + my dad.
The perfect combination.
I wonder how I'm still alive.

I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.
2  weeks is wayy too long.
I'll break wayy before then.
If I haven't already.

I don't even make any sense.
I feel high, because I'm so tired.
I really should sleep.
It sounds nice in practice.
But in reality, no.
So I'll suck it up, and go sit on my bed listening to artists sing about how I feel,
With words in such a way that I could never speak.
They're almost poetic.
I tried once...


It failed.

Guess it isn't meant for everyone.