cutting

I cut last night, so deeply that blood was gushing in rivulets down my leg. It was criss-crossed and in the shape of an umbrella. Cutting over healed keloids is my niche, and the scars on my legs represent the emotional up and downs I've dealt with. I've been trying not to give in, but last night was terrible. D invited Gary to dinner, which I didn't eat any of, thank god, and he was so much more supportive of me than my aunt was. Prior to my coming over, she had disclosed to him my bulimia, and how my b/p-ing was escalating, my bipolar disorder, and essentially everything I've ever decided to confide in her. I was completely humiliated, but Gary tried to reassure me everything was alright, and nothing was going to change between us, which obviously made me feel worse, since I'm in love with him. But I could tell he saw me differently, and that was devastating. I still have to go to D's every weekend, as well. I just can't handle this. I want it to end.

And now, despite everything I've ever loved going to hell in a hand basket, I am driven by the same desire to starve - to wither away into nothing but bones. I have completely dedicated myself to restricting, and I am already in love with the exhilarating high. I want to go as low as possible, or as low as it is possible for me to go, which may not be the same thing, in the long run. The lowest I've ever been was 105lbs, and that was a 00 - do I want to get lower than that? How do I expect to survive at 100lbs? I would be living a strange half-life, and I can imagine it wouldn't be a trip. I have found a control that I hadn't thought I could ever achieve again, and all because I am upset by how my life has gotten to be shit. I never expected this, and I expect I am a disappointment to everyone I've ever known - by golly gee, this girl is 18 and still in the 10th grade. I want to cry. I need warm arms around me. I need, I want, everything I cannot have.

I am angry at my body for not losing weight. I cut the flesh, and it does not tighten. I have hit bottom, and that scares me. I feel like I'm just floating along, drifting through life without capturing a moment. As sick as this may sound, when I cut, I always long for another to be with me, even cutting me instead. It is a connection that I have always dreamt of, and I understand how crazy it sounds. I want Gary to cut me, to love me, to understand me.