September 27th

I wake up, it's my birthday - I start breakfast, I'm not hungry but I eat anyway. I can only finish half the plate. The rest I put the fridge for later. I'm a bodybuilder now; bodybuilders eat. Everything goes according to plan on my 18th birthday until eight o'clock in the evening. I pour some Cheerios into a bowl, take a bite, dump the rest. I'm starving but if I eat I might purge or cry or both. I think of going back; back to starving, binging, diuretics, cigarettes, appetite suppressants, fat burners, tea and gum instead of food. I think about cocaine, crystal meth, ipecac syrup (which induces vomiting), and laxatives. I think about my irregular heart beat that even now could fail on me. I think about my poor  esophagus and ulcers that could for in my stomach from purging. I think about the kidney problems from the diuretics, and the knee problems from compulsive exercise. Lastly I think about how I am 18; I think about my family and friends and my future and I know if I did go back I would die this time, because escaping death the first time was a miracle.

I wonder about my future and that scares me. I think about failure. I think about making so many people unhappy. I think about death and God. I cannot die, because I'm too afraid. I have the will to live and the will to fight for love and life and friends and family. I cannot die now. A piece of me is giving up on everything because a part of me is afraid of life and losing control.