MINIMALISM AT ITS BEST.

please pull the trigger for me.

I HAVE THE HEALTHY BODY. Or so it would seem. My hair is now shit, my bowels fucking hate me and my digestive system is still disagreeable. I FEEL LIKE I HAVE BEEN EATING HEALTHILY OR WHATEVER FOR SO LONG and in reality it has only been since like, the beginning of MAY.

But I do this a lot. These dumbass periods of self-recovery because I'm too chicken-shit to stay sick but at the same time when I'm healthy I'm too chicken-shit to stay that way as well.

I stepped on the scale and saw an ungodly number. I will not repeat it. But seriously, once you've gotten under 100 pounds, anything above that is just way too excess. And it's funny because my first ever long term goal of 89 (which was of course lowered) was only THREE FUCKING POUNDS AWAY this time. Of course I gave up just as I give up on everything. 91. 91 91 91.

I sometimes stare at those pictures, those triggering bony pictures of girls who made it as far as they wanted to go. And I thought, it looks so painful. But in my head I say, it's not. Yes it's a very thin (haha no pun intended.) line to tread and you're right, being sick should not be a goal to aspire to, but being 91 was nothing just like being 81 would be nothing except a little more tiring, exhausting, floating, whatever.

I must say though the further the weight goes down the more obsessive the thoughts become. When I dropped down below 95 and wanted to get to 92, it was mostly so I could allow myself to eat and know that I would gain weight and get to 95 again without fear. But then getting to 91 became so much that I had to do it, had to had to had to do it do it please because i said.

I don't know anymore; these thoughts happen all the time. I dismiss them of course. It's a nagging little thread pulling itself lose at the back of my balled up cashmere sweater brain.

Marya was right, how when you're better you keep this talisman of your eating disorder. You know it's still there, somewhere, the bones are still buried.

It's why I won't just tye a knot in it and be done.

I'm not really better. Just the shell of better. Just the idea of better. The charade.

But I mean, it works out, right? Everybody sees me healthy and I say, "yeah, okay" and I don't give in to my dark desires of the destructive.

Whatever.