February 4, 2011: Friday

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February 4, 2011: Friday

8:44 PM

Dear diary, 

I was taken to Hell today. I’m 113 pounds... 113 pounds... I’ve GaInEd 113 pounds back on. My mother was h.a.p.p.y. I was not. Anorexia and Bulimia are going to kill me.

I need to r u n a w a y. They can’t keep me here to shove their hideous, disgusting, FATTENING, d.e.l.i.c.i.o.u.s. down my throat... I CAN’T BE FAT. I JUST CAN’T.

The Devil asked me how I can see myself as FAT. I have FAT everywhere, I need to get rid of it. Somebody, please... reach out your hand... Pull me out of this nightmare and into a dream where I could THIN, p.r.e.t.t.y. and eat anything I want...

That’d be amazing.

But I want to be THIN. And THIN I shall be. Whether or not the doctor likes it. I’m going to be B-E-A-U-T-FULL.

Blub blub. Addie wants to climb a tree. I’m kinda too d i z z y to climb a tree. I don’t have much energy. I get out of breath easier. My limbs feel like they’re going to fall off. I can’t climb up the stairs without stopping for a breath. My mind is always racing. I have a hard time focusing. My vision’s failing.

What... what’s happening to me?

Why... why do I feel so... terrible?

Who... who’s doing this to me?

You are, said Hope, you foolish little thing. Anorexia! I had run into my room crying. I need you, Anorexia. I need you Mia. Anorexia and Mia. Anorexia and Bulimia. Please... save me.

Someone. Anyone. Save me.

Love, Dying?

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