Deleted an overly long entry.
Such meaningless words.
I cannot bear this any longer.
Pain with no source.
Strong pain from small problems.

Today I had a healthy breakfast.  A small lunch at 11:30.  A tiny snack at 2:00.  And nothing for another 4 hours after that.  Which means I had enough time to get pleanty hungry.  Enough time to feel my empty stomach.  Enough time to feel proud for not snacking and eating junk.  Enough time to feel fear join the hunger knotting my stomach.  While I try to forget the past, my stomach-brain link still strongly remembers the feel of hunger being a good thing.  It still remembers the amount of pride that would fill me when hunger was all I felt.  And that pride still automatically comes once I'm hungry enough. 
I feel sickened, but mostly fearful, of the fact that pride is what I feel when I'm hungry.  I know that I will continue to eat, I enjoy it now, but what if one day that proud feeling is what I need, and I skip a meal?  What if old habits return?  There is more I fear than eating scantily for a couple weeks at a time.  I always managed to snap out of it.  But there are worse things, worse habits, that could return.  I do not want a ruined life again. 

     I stood outside, my arms outstretched, eyes closed, face turned up to the sun.  Laughing from the pure joy that comes from simply being alive, I twirled in a circle, feeling the warmth of the sun contest with the cool breeze that was playing with the ends of my hair. 
    A grin still playing at the corners of my mouth, I turned to face the road.  A large, refreshing breath of air filled me, and then I was off.
    My feet pounded at the pavement; my lungs and heart settled into an old familiar rythm.  Energy coursed through my body so that I felt more alive than I ever had.  Every cell buzzed as I picked up my pace, smiling for no reason other than my love for everything in this moment of perfection.  SInce slowing or stopping was unthinkable, I pushed myself to my limits, loving the aching of my body, knowing I would be even better because of my actions.  A giggle escaped from my lips, and a bounce of sheer delight picked up my step.  I was so alive.  Happiness seeped through every corner of my being, knowing no bounds or limitations. 
     Upon reaching the river, I pulled off my running tank, exposing my bright sports bra and lightly tanned skin.  Kicking off my shoes, I wiggled out of my socks and jumped into the water with a delighted splash.  Immersing myself in the calm of the cool, flowing water, I sighed and closed  my eyes.  I focused all of my wandering attention onto the soothing feel of the river and allowed myself to swim lazily upstream, only to float back to my starting spot.  Cold water ran through my hair and over my body, relieving the heat that had accumulated from my run.  
     Satisfaction buffered away any feelings of unhappiness that may have tried to disturb me.  Already that morning I had cleaned my room, prepared an incredibly healthy breakfast, pleasured myself to soothe the sudden arousal that had sprung upon me, and did all my laundry while dancing to high energy music. 
     For the last few days, there had been no stopping my actions.  I had to be doing something productive at every waking moment.  Emotions soared through me, boundlessly stretching to feel even better than I already did.  I was part of this miraculous world, living perfection, no limits holding me back from all that I can accomplish.  Oh, how amazing life truely was.

One week later.

     I sighed, turning over to look at the clock.  1:21am.  Only two minutes past the last time I had looked.  Groaning, I thrashed around under my covers, trying to find a position that was anything less than painful.  After several more minutes of my grunted protesting and tangling of my sheets, I sat up and leaned against the wall.  Reaching out, I flicked on my desk lamp and pulled my diary to me. 
     A wasted day, all I did was sit on my worthless, lazy, ever-expanding ass.  I seem to have this tendancy to forget just how pathetic I really am, thinking I can change the world if I so wanted.  Fuck the highs of this disorder, I was wrong.  This is not worth it.  To think, silly, pathetic me every thought I could succeed at something. 
     God!  I cannot bear this!  I feel as though my chest will explode from the amount of hate I hold for myself.  I am so overwhelmed by simply waking up to live my pointless life that I don't think I can take this much longer.
     A painful rush filled me as the memory of my emotions from earlier rushed back to greet me.  Tears welled in my eyes and I slammed my head back against the wall.  Why must I live through such pain?  Chest tightening, my breaths came more quickly.  My thoughts began to race, insults running into statements of failure, feelings mixing with nonsense, all jumbling into a uncomprehendable mess.  I sucked in a harsh breath, trying to steady the shaking of my hands. 
     Fuck!  This was not going to work.  I yanked open the desk drawer, rummaging to the bottom for an old candy tin.  Instantly feeling calmer upon locating it, my hands steadied enough to pull the top open and pull out my trusted razor.
    Tears streamed down my cheek as I realized that returning to this destructive habit only proved just how much of a failure I really was.

-----True exerpts from my life of undiagnosed (obviously probable) bipolar disorder-----

The whispers surround me when I walk through the room.
Or maybe it is my imagination.
Paranoid of what they think.
Or simply wishing I was worth talking about.
Whether these whispers are it or these people save their gossip for home,
I know they talk about me.
I've heard what they say behind my back.
But never once have they said it to my face.
I'm that girl.
The freak.  The one who changed.
The one who had it all but gave it up for a glinting razor.
The only thing that brought comfort night after lonely night.
Tears soaked my pillow, blood stained the sheets.
But nothing could ever show the amount of pain I felt.
I heard them once,
"What happened to her?"
"It's probably for attention."
"But why?  She had it."
"That's what no one gets."
Attention my ass.
I hide these red lines for a reason.
They're for me, not for anyone else.

Overwhelmed.
Curled on my bed.
Hands grabbing at my head.
Clutching tightly.
Pulling my hair.
Sobbing breaths.
Gut-wrenching pain.
Grinding teeth.
Can't think.
Mind is out of control.
Spinning.
Stopping.
New direction.
Go.
Stop.
Go, go, go!
Can't stop this.
Pain. Agony.
Mental anguish.
Won't end.
Stop.
I'll do anything.
Just to end this.

My thoughts today are random. 
My mind, as poorly potrayed above, is in turmoil.
No reason why. 
It's been happening a lot lately.
I become so overwhelmed that I cannot function.
I writhe in mental anguish, alone on my bed.
Mental pain that takes over every sense of my body.
Supressed feelings finally surfacing to wreck havock.
I think I'll die from such confusion.
But it goes on until I finally black out from exhaustion.
To have a fitful, uncomfortable sleep with nonsense dreams.

Oh I sure look forward to this happening again tonight.

You girls asked for hair pictures.
Please accept the fact that I am not comfortable with placing a picture of my face on the internet.
This was the best I could do.

http://groups.xanga.com/groups/group.aspx?id=2545920
Check it out.