December 2,2012 6:37 A.M
The sun hit my face like it does every morning.
And like every morning, I hate it.
I groan turning over and looking at my clock. It's time to get up but who would know? I throw off my covers and walk to the mirror. I knew I gained 2 pounds with Thanksgiving just gone by and the family wouldn't let me out of their sight. Something about not worrying the grandparents or some ridiculous shit like that. I tried to get it back up but by the time we got back from Nan's it was no use and I was stuck 2 pounds heavier, looking like a fucking beluga whale.
It's not fair you know? All those models with those perfect bodies haunt me. They also give me inspiration, which is why I like them on my wall. My brother thinks they're the things that are making me sick.
I broke all the dinner plates last night.
I sounds horrid doesn't it?
I liked it,though. I liked the rush of it. I felt like I was in control of something for once. And for me, that was huge.
My parents didn't like it very much. They're sending me back to that bitchy psychiatrist (who makes me write in this journal) because they don't believe me when I say she DOESN'T DO ANYTHING BUT BE A PAIN IN MY ASS. They think I'm the pain to her because to them I'm obviously the worst one.
I didn't choose this life. If they knew what had happened to me with him it would've been different. They'd sympathize me instead of sending me to a bunch of doctors every 5 seconds because my moods change, I'm depressed, I'm bulimic, I've heard it all. And quite frankly I'm tired of it.
I know I'm a mess. I know I'm not worth the air I breathe. Which is why I do it all. It releases my pain. Ha, they don't know I cut yet, do they? Nope. And it'll stay that way because I like staying to myself. I'm not a people person. Or an emotional person.
I've got to go now. The Devil is calling for the breakfast I won't eat.
-Avery
