It hurts when you're gone

I'm losing it, I'm desperately losing it. For I've been waiting for K for almost two years and I don't know what has suddenly happened, for he isn't talking to me anymore. I feel ignored, tossed away, meaningless, stupid for ever thinking I might have a chance with him.

I hold my breath for what can never be. I'd move to Stockholm for him, I'd move anywhere for him. I really wish I could deny every other pleasure in the whole world just to wait for him. I wish celibacy was easy. I wish I was stronger than I really am.

He abandoned me. It feels like he has abandoned me. All I've been trying to do is to be supportive, helpful, a shoulder to lean on, open and inviting for him. I haven't tried to "jump" him or anything. Just one thing I ever asked from him which was his support on Valentine's Day and he didn't do that, but I hold no grudges. I'm sure he had good reasons and even if he didn't, I still forgive him. All I want is to talk to him. That's all I ever want from him. What more, or what less, can I want?

I'm so very appreciative of the smallest thing he can give me. But I'm not. At the same time I'm not and I'm withering away. I break apart inside and don't know what to do. During the autumn, sometime. I think it was in October or August, I actually told him that I like him more than as a friend, and you know what? He told me that he likes me more than just as a friend too. I didn't want to announce it, because it felt way too early, but now... he barely even wants to talk to me, and I know, that he's talking to a lot of other people instead.

I think he's avoiding me, and I don't know what I possibly could have done wrong. Should I just tell him that he's my single one reason to stay alive, to go on living, because dying would hurt him? Should I tell him that I don't just like him more than just as a friend, that I am deeply in love with him and have been for almost two years? Is there any point...?

I'm losing hope, I'm losing my will to live. I try to tell myself that if I die I would hurt him tremendously and I really don't want that. But my only reason to live doesn't even want to talk to me anymore.

Maybe soon in patient

I should never have started purging. Now look at this mess.

I listen to my suicide playlist, not because I want to die, but because I want to feel something. I fell asleep on the couch again, too tired to physically exist. Now I'm up again, and imagining every possible scenario that could happen if I do decide to go in patient. Everything they could possibly do wrong.

I honestly don't know what good they think it would do to force me there. Or if I would go freely just so that they won't force me.

I don't know what I'll do. Last thing I want is to be force fed. It's literally a recurring nightmare of mine.

I'm scared of the results from my blood tests, scared of how bad they will be, or what the fuck if they are still within the normal range?! I'd suffocate then, feel like a complete failure cause then I obviously can't even purge right. Can't starve right, can't purge right...

I still can't make up my mind, still want to see those results first, cause if they are in the normal range, I so definitely won't go in patient. But if they're completely out of whack, I might consider it. I really don't know what I'll decide for if they're just a little whacky.

I purge every day, I drink every day, I starve every day. My life has literally never been messier but I won't accept any help. Still every essence of me cries out "help me" but I only want help if K tells me I should. I only live for him, I might as well die for him too. But I can't die from him... I can't leave him.

All the time, fucking constantly, people seem to assume and ask if I'm suicidal, and maybe I am, I'm just so damn good at hiding it from myself.

But death scares me, being away from K scares me, further away, that is. I'm already so fucking far away what difference does it make? I'm flickering, shifting fast between wanting to die and wanting to live. I really, I think for the first time now, live on the border between life and death. I balance it carelessly, unable to make a decision.

And I don't know if I wish to be immortal or for this to eventually kill me so I won't have to do it myself. I'm putting suicide out of my hands. It's a god damn fucking relief, to be brutally honest. And now I feel something, all the things there even is a name for.

I'm too young to die, and now I'm just getting all the more sure that I won't live to 30. Eating disorder suddenly, drastically shortened my expected life span. If it wasn't bad already before, I mean. It's just suddenly so damn real and it freaks me out.

I'm just so fucking scared but I don't know of what exactly, cause it isn't stopping me. I get more scared after every time I purge, last time close to tears, yet I keep at it again and again and again. I want it to kill me, but I don't want to die.

The ambivalence is eating me alive. It might be one of the hardest decisions I've ever stood before: live or die. I can't decide. I can't fucking decide so I let my eating disorder decide it for me. But I'm losing control over it and I'm afraid that if the day comes that I decide to live, it will be too late.

Mortal fear

Today's first purge and I'm a mess. Got up more fluid than I thought I had in me. That's gotta be noticeable later, the loss of all that fluid.

I am beyond broken.

And it feels like I just shatter even more for each purge. It is self violating, and more than just awful. I take the caring words that others have said with me to the toilet, shrug and then go ahead and do it. It doesn't matter what anyone says, only what K says and so far, he hasn't said a word about it. I lay my happiness, my life, in his hands, in his words. His words are the only words that matter.

I'm gonna have my blood tests taken tomorrow already and I worry about the result, but mostly I'm curious, in my own fucked up way. I want them to spike through the fucking ceiling. I want for once in my life to not hear that nothing is wrong with me when I feel like utter shit.

That these heart palpitations, chest pains, and headaches, this dizziness, nausea and weakness are not just anxiety making things feel real. I want my potassium hitting rock bottom, I want them to tell me that I'm more than just moderately dehydrated and lack in every single vitamin and mineral. Why am I so fucked up?

Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of all mental illnesses. I don't know why I just thought of that. But I still don't think it can kill me, cause I have been told so by my hallucination of Satan himself. Suddenly, that sentence made me feel further from sane than I have ever been... Cause yeah, if a hallucination says so! Not.

I'm still struggling with realising that I am in fact a mortal being, I have absolutely no wish to be immortal, I just don't think I can die no matter how much I sometimes want to.

But I believe that the time has come, when I'm starting to realise my own mortality. Maybe a little young for that? I'm just 25 years old, but could die from my eating disorder. I've heard of bulimic's who died of a heart attack from their purging after just a few months of purging. Now, since I'm being supervised/monitored, I'm in contact with doctors and such, I believe I'll have a little longer than that. But I can't know for sure. It scares me, yet I do everything I can to further worsen it.

And maybe, it's possible all those listed physical symptoms that I'm experiencing are just anxiety, mortal fear, catching up with me for real this time. That this disorder is gonna kill me, and that I want it to.

Emptiness

I miss K so incredibly much that I've forgotten how to feel anything else. I'm just torn, so very torn apart. From everything, really. And all that remains is a hollow feeling of emptiness and loneliness. I drink myself apart, write myself to pieces and I can't get anything right.

About to purge my dinner now. I'm getting tired of it, but also addicted to it. I've purged every day for almost a month now. It makes me feel even more hollowed out. Even emptier. Not right in the moment, but right in the moment after, and it stays for hours, that feeling.

Yeah, that emptiness. Sometimes it eats me alive, consumes me, other times it's what I strive for. Feeling empty. It's what I drink for. And usually it's right when I stop drinking that last glass for the night, right after a purge and all I have is diet coke and a cigarette, is when that feeling hits me. It's like a graceful calm, an echo, a shadow lingering or like sounds slowly fading away.

And I become one with it, that feeling, what I've been longing for all day. But it's not satisfying. I want something else, deep at heart, I want something else. And that is the opposite, to feel everything so deeply, to feel alive. But I only want to be that way with K. Without him, I want nothing at all. And I believe it destroys me. That craving for what I cannot have, and my striving for the second best which is the exact opposite.

I am killing myself slowly, cigarette after cigarette, drink after drink, purge after purge. Those are my most dangerous behaviours right now, and they become my very essence. The reason, the cure, the medicine, the ultimate self destruction. I feel as though I'm just withering away, and I watch it, how awfully I wither with not a hint of grace. Destruction, it's rarely pretty.

But I'm still waiting, hoping, dreaming. But mostly I'm just killing time, and myself in the process of not caring what becomes of me in his absence.

Fear of the law

Okay... I was just about to do an extremely risky and stupid thing online. My mind just wasn't there, at all. I was bored to tears (not literally) and kinda started messaging this stranger at an online dating forum.

It all led to a role play thingy and I don't want to say what it was about (it's that bad, ok) but then suddenly the thought came up, what if it's a cop? And I just closed down the tab faster than the wind cause holy hell what the fuck is wrong with me.

So... that, I suppose, was just a glimpse on a part of my darkness. But I have to get it into my head that no matter what: don't fucking trust strangers online. One of my biggest fears would be running into a cop or something similar because of how I can sometimes behave online...

Cause I keep thinking it's safe, that it's just imaginary, just in the fantasy, nothing harmful about it, but then I realise. That's how they catch people like me, even though I have never committed such a crime. But my fear is still overwhelming. And maybe it should be.

The mess that is my life

I hate myself for making such a mess out of everything. What have I become? I nibble on the healthy food that I don't particularly like, then binge on the unhealthy food and purge it. Take a bloody photo of what I look like right after and drink myself to an early grave, all the while I also try to cause myself severe dehydration by restricting my water intake to zero, only drinking soda and booze while purging massive amounts of fluids every single day. A pack of cigarettes on that.

I'm a hazard to myself, like Pink sings in "Don't let me get me" that I have on my playlist of eating disorder related songs. But I'm listening to Sisters of Mercy while I miss K tremendously but still am incapable of saying "tja" to him in chat like I always do. Like we always do. Have I lost my spark? Is everything downhill from here?

I tried to be the strong one between us two, I really did and somewhat succeeded for months. But then I just crashed. I can't carry my own burden, so now how can help him carry his? I want nothing else. If I can help him that would be the meaning of my entire life. But how can I? I'm lost in my tangled chaos and it's only getting worse.

Where are we going from here? Marillion sings in their song "White Russian" and I can't help but wonder what will eventually become of us. I only see darkness but cry desperately for the light to find us, but mostly for it to find him. I live for him, I have no wish any longer to live for myself and I do think that the only reason I would "give up" my eating disorder would be if he told me to. I need his blessing, kind of.

But what if I die before that can ever happen, what if he dies? Death, it scares me more than anything, particularly his. And I do have reasons to worry, I really do. I've only told my shrink because of confidentiality and she has no idea who he is, his real name or exactly where he lives. It's safe there, that information. But I fear as I get all the more scared of the worst I won't be able to keep my mouth shut about it. I fear my own confidentiality.

Am I not trustworthy anymore? No, I am not. For information just kinda leaks out of me and I don't know how close up all those little holes allowing it to seep out. And I still kick myself for the information about K that I've let out to those that really, really had no business knowing about it. What would I do if he ever finds out? Should I just tell him in a desperate attempt to let him know just how terrible awful I feel about what I've done, to let him know that I love him more than anything by stating that I'd do absolutely ANYTHING to make up for the mistakes that I've made? But a part of me believes that those mistakes, they can never be made up for. And that keeps me up at night. And it should. It fucking should.

For I feel like a terrible person tonight. For every sip of drinks that I take, for every tear that ran down my face when I purged, for every bite that I took of the sandwiches that later ended up in the toilet. I feel awful for what I'm doing to myself and I feel horrible for what I did to the man I would literally give anything for. Not just my sucky life, but literally everything.

Is that love, or just desperation, obsession, compulsion? Do I love him and everything that is him, or am I lost in a chaos of feelings and love an idea, or an ideal? How can I ever know. Though I know, I just know that this love will last forever. I might move on one day, pretend that I do! I might fall in love with someone else who would love me too; I still so strongly believe that I would still love K, even if I'm no longer in love with him. Does that make sense? He's in my soul since July 2013 and that's a bloody long time for someone like me. Me, who always keep falling in and out of love with any stranger.

I have to stop writing soon, these words become my enemy and I cannot grasp their concept. They demand me to explain and explain but I'm grasping at straws and it just becomes like this unsolvable mess. My whole life is a mess and at the same time as I try to understand it I also know how it happened all along. I was after all there every step of the way. But I cannot understand it, no matter how hard I try. Am I really that sick of living? That I deliberately try to cause severe dehydration even though I almost collapsed from it the summer before last? I don't even know why I drink, but to numb every feeling known to man and mostly, it is love that I try to drown. How sad isn't that?

Cause I can't... I just can't stand loving someone who shows no affection in return. I think I know why, but I'll keep that to myself. That much I'm able to shut up about it. That much, I'm still able to stay loyal to him.

Like a monster

I wonder if I'll ever go in patient for my eating disorder. It's kinda leaning towards that. I didn't tell my mother half the things we discussed during that meeting yesterday. That they want me to talk to a doctor asap. That they wanted to take tests to see how my potassium levels and such are.

I don't want to scare my mother, on what's really going on. I'm scaring myself already as it is. But if I ever end up so bad I have to get rushed to a hospital, I will freely go in patient, cause this shit is literally killing me and I'm just now starting to realise that. That's the only reason I would ever admit myself to a psychiatric ward again though. Me and psych wards just don't go well together.

I don't even know if I want to die, I don't know if I want to live. I keep dancing on the border and I keep risking my life for stupid things. Like being thin is such a stupid thing. Isn't it? My latest obsession is killing me. And I'm doing nothing to stop it, in fact I'm just gonna keep doing what I'm doing and then we'll see where it takes me.

Haha, apparently my tumblr fan is a 15 year old guy who I think is from somewhere in the U.S. but that's just a guess. Yeah, I have a tumblr fan. He's always liking a bunch of my posts and reblogs every day and we chat almost every day too. Wonder if he realises that I'm 10 years older than him. Damn, now I feel old... but it's nice, having someone to talk to in an often quite casual manner. I hope he's not developing a crush on me though... really don't think I could handle that.

So much has gone on lately, and I can't tell you half it (not yet at least), but these last two weeks have been like a monster swallowing me whole. Eating disorder, anxiety, school, relationships and stress would be a good sum up. I'm slowly shutting down, can't deal with the world. I miss K, where are you when I need you? I'm always here when you need me.

But that's the thing about one sided relationships, isn't it? If I can even call it a relationship. Well, it's a friendship at least, that much I can call it. Only in my dreams there is more. And how it ravages me. I'm breaking apart, I'm falling and he's not there to catch me. Other people are, but it's just not the same. And how I dream of falling into his arms... My dreams are killing me. Them too.

No, I know I'm not dying yet, probably still quite far from it. I don't even know about my potassium levels. They could still be good. I accidentally told them I started purging the 18th January when it was actually the 28th. It's a 10 days dif, would that be important somehow? I mean, did I worry them too much by screwing up the dates? I don't know.

I'm drinking water now, just a few sips, that's all I can muster, while waiting for my sleeping pills to kick in. My heart hurts, figuratively, maybe I should add this time. I just want to get away from everything right now. The whole world can just go and fuck itself sideways. I've had enough of it. Good night.

From the bottom of my heart

My heart is dying and soon also literally. I'll be causing irreparable damage to myself. I just don't care, but it still rattles me. Beyond my comprehension, do I really want to die like that? -I ask myself, for what more can I do. I've never been more of a danger to myself before. I'm scared, but I don't know how, or what of. I can't reach the right words, I can't think clearly. God damn I need more booze.

I might be over reacting, but my eating disorder is really starting to get dangerous now. I've been writing about this all day but I just can't get my words right. I don't want it to sound too worrying, or too casual. Purging like this will have very serious complications eventually and drinking on top of that, dehydration is not far into the future. I just don't care, but I'm scared.

Because suddenly it's real, you know. I've had an eating disorder for at least 5 months now and I was never before worried about the health risks, not truly. Now I am... fuck, I can't hold myself together. There are things I can do to lessen the risks, or to prolong it kinda, but I don't want to. I want it to hurt me, I need for it to.

But here it is: By purging as much as I do, my potassium will drop significantly, and it can cause arrhythmia to my heart. That's what's scaring me, that's what I don't care about. I'm torn today, so very torn. Between wanting to die of something other than direct suicide, and being scared of dying.

But my heart is strong, I've never once had a problem with it before in my life, so there's still a part of me thinking that I'm immortal. But I think for maybe the first time ever, I'm starting to realise my own mortality, and maybe that is what truly is scaring me.

Night time tragedy

I'm up again, eating. Couldn't sleep, thirsty. For a cigarette, for things I don't have at home. Have some lemonade, have my medication. 2 pills for my sleep, 1 pill for my mood. Why doesn't borderline count as a mood disorder? It's pretty fucking much effecting my mood. But I'm not even sure I have it, not truly. I think I have DID or some type of schizophrenia. Or just the worst case of PTSD with dissociation that has been going on for soon 17 years. I'm not well, I've never been.

"Night time tragedy
and I follow my roots
they guide me and bewilder me
under my boots

I'm up again, thirsty
for a calm that I can't find
I'm reckless, defenceless
a danger to my own mind

I feel so much
and it's degrading me senseless
I'm aching, yearning
for becoming timeless

I lose myself yet again
for dimensions that do not hold
Slowly dying
without the soul I sold

I panic and realise
that I can lose everything
but I value every moment with you
higher than anything

There's not a piece of me left
worth holding onto
So I sell my pride and live
only for you"

Just wrote it. I'm broken today, maybe you can tell? I don't know. I just miss him and I'm destroying myself. Don't know if that is tumblr material. I'm gonna try to get some sleep again, but I'll probably be up soon again. So I'll leave my computer on. I'll leave the light on. I'm really just too damn bored. And life doesn't interest me when I'm sober.

Mess

I failed purging just now. I failed it so miserably. I tried possibly over 20 times before I just gave up. Hit something, cursed, screamed. I'm so fucking disappointed in myself I feel like fucking killing myself. I'm such a failure, can't even purge successfully. My gag reflex doesn't exist. Or, it's very damn weak. You could probably face fuck me for an hour and I wouldn't even gag. I just wish it was a bit more sensitive, you know. That reflex. Instead it takes showing down a fucking fire truck down my throat for anything to come back up. And I'm all out of fire trucks. And efforts. I'm just so damn exhausted, pissed and feeling the hopelessness just rain over me.

I'm tired of living today. Today, life is not worth fighting for. Today my life is so god damn sucky that I wouldn't even trade it with my worst enemy. Cause here, have a mass load of incurable and intolerable anxiety, here have some horribly annoying and distressing eating disorder crap, here have the worst fucking memory of your entire life summed up in tens of neat little flashbacks. Today, I wish I wasn't alive. This day can go and fuck itself.

Fuck, my throat hurts now, and drinking alcohol really gives it that extra sting, you know? I swear a lot, I know that, it's just that today has been really awful and I can't deal with it. My anxiety levels hit the roof, my purging and my whole eating disorder is a joke, I'm dreading Valentine's Day like never before and I'm just... a complete fucking mess.

Under my skin, and closer

I'm standing on the border between living my life and giving it all up completely. I live my life, but only partially. I try to hope for a better future that would include K at least in some way or another. I try not to give up on that. But some things I have given up on.

Everything feels shallow, hollow and empty. Meaningless, colourless, tasteless, muted and dimmed. Everything except K, who is like a splash of vibrant colours, black and white. He's my saviour, the only reason that I still haven't given up completely, he's what keeps that small spark in me alive. Snuff it out, and I'll be dead.

I'm hanging by a thread, and it breaks a little more the more time passes and the less that happens. As he shies away from me, and I try to move in closer but get ignored or rejected. As he's getting worse and sicker and closer to his own death, I'm getting closer to mine. I'm synced with him, as I fall down when he does, but sometimes I also do that on my own. It feels as if I'm suffering for two people.

I carry his burden, whether I want to or not, and whether he wants me to or not. It's just the way it is. It's heavy, that burden. So many unsolved issues and issues that most likely can never be solved. Though some can, and all I can do is to pray that he will one day accept help for them, so that he can get better. First of all I just want for him to not suffer, secondly I wish I didn't have to suffer for him and thirdly, I wish I didn't have to suffer at all.

Because both our miseries are linked, as I tear apart whenever he does, probably even when none of us are aware of it. And I want to believe, that whatever I'm feeling all on my own, affects him too somehow. Cause I know that he cares, he's just not that good of showing it at all times. But I know that he does. Cause we talk about me too, and not just about him. I think that at least some part of him wants to be there for me as well, although it is hard for him.

And I respect that and I understand it too, even though we aren't that alike in that area. I'm too shying away when I feel down, but not always, and never from him. He does, he shies away from everyone when he's feeling down, even me. And I hate that, cause for once I just wish he needed me as much as I need him. That we could somehow comfort each other, or anything.

It drives me mad, when he goes into solitude, because all I want to do is to hold him and comfort him. But I want what's best for him, I try to be accepting and do as he wants me to: to stay away. He's hard to love. I always feel so very inadequate and maybe that's because I am, because anyone and everyone is. And I know that no matter how much I truly do love him, it is not in my power to heal him. No matter how fucking much I want to.

And it scares me. It scares me to the brink of falling to pieces every day and night. I hold on for him, I have to. I'll stand by his side forever and ever, and I just want him to know that I care with all of my broken heart and homesick soul, that he's my top priority, the love of my fucking life and most certainly worth fighting for. It's worth the chaos, the confusion, all the time in the world and strength that I don't even know how to summon. But I can't, I just can't let him in on that.

Afraid to scare him away with my otherworldly feelings. Afraid he'll take off and leave me. Afraid he wouldn't even believe me. Afraid he'd somehow take it negatively. That all along I had an agenda, to snare him or something. I don't know what exactly it is that I'm so afraid of. That he'd be scared of me and what I feel for him.

All I know, is that I have to tell him before it's too late, but not too early. It's been almost 2 years of crazy affections, and almost 1 year since I sort of got him on the hook, or what to say. Slowly and carefully I've been trying to show him my world and invite him in. Trying to make him let me into his. I've been aching, longing, wanting, dreaming and hoping for so long now it's like I've forgotten what it was like to not be in love with him.

I want to experience everything I do, think and feel with him. I want to live under the same roof as him, share my whole life with him. I want for him to be a part of everything I am and do. And I also want to be a part of everything he is and does. I want him under my skin, and to be under his skin. That close, as close and intimate as you can possibly be with another person. Physically, yes, but mostly emotionally and mentally.

That is the kind of life that I want to live. That is what I think is worth fighting for, or anything between now and that perfect state. Anything, even the smallest something is worth to go on breathing for. To be just one tiny step closer to him, even for just a minute, or a split second. It could be anything. Simply chatting about ordinary/the usual stuff, or holding his hand, seeing him IRL again and hug him, talking on the phone with him, kissing him, knowing he read a poem that I wrote about/for him, watching a movie together, drinking together, anything really.

It's all worth living, and surviving for. It's all worth fighting for. But sometimes I think I'm fighting a bit too much. It's not a game and I'm not supposed to force him into anything. I should rather ask and accept no for an answer. I just crave it so desperately and want it before we die: closeness with him, any form of intimacy, to let him know how much I love him; even if he wouldn't believe me, even if he would freak out or just not know what to say or do in response. I need for him to know, partially because I want to get it off my chest and also partially, because I want him to know that he's not forgotten, rejected or unlovable.

I really do think he might need to hear it, to know it, even if he won't believe it. Because maybe someday he will then. But all I can give him is time. I try not to overwhelm him. I try to keep it calm and light and worth both of our time. I try to draw it out, letting it out little by little in small gestures that he might or might not pick up on.

I move in closer, then back away to not overwhelm him and to give him space. I try to take a bit of a distance, but it's the hardest thing to do when you're dying to get closer than you've ever been.

11 months (almost)

I noticed that my scars are fading, and in March, the 10th, it will have been one year since I had the surgery. It's kind of unreal to me. I will do so much swimming this summer, if the weather allows me to. And if my school class or the LSS will arrange for us to go swimming before then, I will gladly join them. I can definitely do that now.

All I have is two sort of suspicious scars that is just my own private business and I have no obligation to actually tell anyone about how I got them. I could just say "surgery" or "freak accident" or simply "none of your fucking business" and that would be it. Ah, I'm just longing for swimming. And being nervous about it, but heck, I've been forced into women's bathing suits for over a decade before just because of those damn lumps on my chest and the gender marker on my birth certificate, it's not so weird that I'm still a bit nervous about it.

About going out in public shirtless, that is. Whether it's summer and extremely hot, or wearing swim suit shorts at a bathing house. But it's almost been a whole year now although this damn freezing country doesn't allow me to even dress down to just wearing a t-shirt 9 months of the year, I still feel awesome about have done that surgery. Cause honestly, it's not about showing off the result, it's about how it makes me feel. In public under layers of clothing and at home in the the private. With or without other people being present.

I will take new photos of what I will look like in a little more than a month, to compare and to see the progress that far. I'll also update that on Transbucket, or whatever the site is called. There I posted a before picture, 9 days post op and 4 months post op, so it could be interesting comparing that to the 1 year post op picture that I later will take then.

Though it hasn't happened that much these last few months. The scars have gotten paler and I'm slightly hairier on my chest, but that's pretty much it. I've got back a little sensation on my nipples but they mostly just feel weird. Like they hurt easily, but sort internally. Must be some kind of nerve damage. Well, I literally asked for nerve damage, so yeah. Well, I asked for a procedure to lessen the sensation in my nipples, or to completely erase it, so technically that is nerve damage.

Aside from that, I have very little sensation on the scars themselves but otherwise most sensation has returned in the area. Also my nipples are weirdly coloured. The areola, sort of, is kinda dark while it's light pink in the middle. I don't know exactly why they turned out that way but I think it's because the areola healed faster than the nipples themselves, or because of that I ripped of the scabs a little too soon there.

That's like the only thing that sort of bothers me, and how purple my scars still are, but they will get paler with time. Now this has probably nothing to do with it, but I've been thinking if it's possible to get my nipples pierced. Preferably just the right one. I've always wanted that, but I don't know if they're in good enough shape for it, or what to say. I should probably wait another year or so, but it's tempting. I could always ask a piercer about it or something, if he or she or they has any opinion about piercing nipples that have been operated on. Cause I seriously have no idea.

Well, that's my super long 11 months post op update.

Still in this mess

I know I haven't been writing so much about it lately, but my eating disorder still takes up a lot of time and space in my mind. It's just that I don't have much to say about it, just a lot of thinking. I seem to have actually gained a few kilos (ugh, damn I hate it more than you can imagine, but that's the reality of it) and I'm more than desperate to lose them again. And more, but I guess you already figured that out.

If it's at all possible I'm gonna stay under 400 calories of food for today. I'm still drinking every night (for almost 3 weeks now, except from last Saturday when I ran out of booze) and I don't count my drinks into my daily calorie limits. Although I probably should, cause these fake white russian's must be quite calorific.

I'm gonna try an every other day plan kinda thing, to eat little to no food every other day and eat more the other days. Fast on Saturdays, eat 300-400 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Eat at most 900 on the other days. Mix it around, see if I can get my body to stop fucking up my weight and make me lose some again. It's worth a try... at least I have to start somewhere and no matter how much I want to, I can't shock my body right back down to 500 calories a day.

I've been trying so hard for months now, to get back into downright starvation, but it's just so damn hard. And I literally think I get fatter every day. It's horrible, I'm such a mess, but everyone is so happy that I'm eating more. Well, I'm not! I'm fucking miserable at the weight I am now. Especially since I've gained. I just need a few things: a flat stomach, visible ribs, visible hip bones, a bigger thigh gap, hips visibly more narrow than my shoulders. And I think that is very doable, if I could just stop fucking eating.

Well, I've still never been that thin, so guessing at what weight I will achieve all those things is close to impossible. But I think 44 kg is my ultimate goal weight, cause damn if I don't have all that by then something's definitely wrong with my body. That would probably be the average weight of a 10 year old... But I take it one thing at a time, at first, my stomach just has to get flat. That is my number one priority.

Cause it's so annoying that I have to dress a certain way to hide my belly fat. It's close to traumatising every time I take a shower and I see all that fat. All I see is the fat, yet everyone seems to think that I'm thin. Last time I weighed I was at 56,4 kg and that is just... I don't know, it's a fairly low number, so how come I'm so god damn fat?! And why am I literally the only one who thinks I'm fat? I don't understand my own eating disorder, I really don't.

It just fucks with my head 24/7 and I just have nowhere to turn. My shrink whom I really do like doesn't know much of a daft about it, my dietitian just wants what's best for my body and my doctor is only interested in how it can get better for me if I change for the better. Honestly... I just want to tell them all to fuck off and let me starve myself until I die from malnutrition.

Cause I don't care about getting better. I hate my body beyond anyone's comprehension, I hate it so god damn much. I hate it more than I would normally dare to admit, cause I feel like I'm supposed to like it more now, after having transitioned from female to male. But truth be told, I don't think I've ever hated my body this much before. It's not doing anything right! I want to be thin and handsome, look like a cis-dude would look like at my age, weight and height. But instead, I just feel like I look like an intersexual freak from outer space. Honestly, all I ever want is for it to change. I can't stand it the way it is now. I really can't.

This is just a complain message to you all. I'm really not getting anywhere right now. I'm waiting until the spring or so before I go under the knife again just to be 100% sure that that is what I truly want and need, as what is left of my transition. My starvation isn't going much at all in the for me right direction right now. I'm just making new diet plans that I never manage to follow. But this is an update, and that's really all I wanted to give you.

Living for someone else

I have this constant war in my mind, where all the numbers are fighting with my will to live. And if I had any saying, I'd say let it continue until I die of starvation, I don't care. I don't care about my quality of life and I don't care about my life. I never wanted it in the first place.

It's true, if you didn't know. Already as a young child I threatened with suicide and expressed how mean I thought my parents had been to bring me to life. I thought they were selfish to have children. I often said that I didn't ask to get born. I never wanted this life, I think I've hated it since my first breath.

But it's not that simple anymore. I don't want it, but at the same time I do. I want... certain things, certain people, but not the whole concept. I'm tired of fighting every single day and night, I'm so fed up with it that I just simply put down my battle axe and sat down in the dirt. I surrender. I won't try to kill myself, because I don't want to die. I just don't want to live either, and if I need to constantly fight for my right to breathe, then I say let me die.

In a way, I invite death. I invite agony too. Self destruction, mostly. It's my way of surviving and right now, I'm back to only surviving instead of living, but I'm not trying to survive, I just want to make it somewhat bearable. Like... I don't know. I'm still being pulled into darkness, and it's like I just learned to understand that fighting it is pointless.

I don't care where I end up. Where it takes me. I will never be prepared, but I will always know that it will always get worse. And I don't think I can take it, damn it I'm not even gonna try. I just let it consume me. I'm not gonna try to make my anxiety go away other than for the minute. I'm not gonna try to get better from my eating disorder, I want to make it worse. So bad that I'll end up in a hospital dangerously underweight.

I'm not gonna stop drinking, or even try to take it down a notch. Instead I increase my intake as I deem it necessary. I'm never gonna stop smoking. I don't cut that often anymore, but it doesn't matter if that gets worse too. School can fail or work out, I don't care. It's good as long as it lasts.

I just have one wish, one highly intense longing and that's the only reason that I haven't given up completely. It's why I drink, cut, starve, smoke, because if I stop, I wouldn't be able to endure the pain of not being near him. He's my reason to still go on living, and I refuse to give up for as long as his heart is beating. Even if it's not beating for me. Cause it could, one day, if I'm just patient enough. Stubborn enough, hoping hard enough.

I just need to be alive for him. If not anything else, I would never want to cause him the devastating pain it would be if I died. I'm a close friend of his, possibly something more, and he's definitely suffered enough. Also, I don't want to hurt anyone else the same way. It's not just his heart that would be broken if I died and it's sad, but sometimes I have to remind myself of that.

The only life I want, is one with him. Everything else is not an option. Everything else is just surviving, hardly dealing, it's not living. I can't make my life decent without him. Am I putting a lot of pressure on him, or what? Not that I would tell him, not straight up, at least. How could I put such a burden on him? Him, that I love so endlessly much. It would basically be a threat, that if he's not with me I will not be able to go on living. And I don't want that. I'd sooner be dead than start throwing threats like that at him. But I have to vent somewhere.

What a piece of shit that must make me. But I'm just so terribly broken. I don't function that well. And I know that even if we would end up together, I wouldn't be cured, he wouldn't be cured, rain wouldn't automatically turn into sunshine. But maybe, it could make me see some kind of beauty in that rain? Maybe, just maybe, our shared brokenness would be better than as it is now, apart.

It's just a dream, and I doubt it will ever come true. Though, it is the only thing keeping me alive, and I just have to fight for it. Just knowing that every breath I take is for him, suddenly makes the next breath a lot easier to take. And the next one after that. I'm living for someone else now, and although it's not ideal, it's something. Cause somehow it's better than living completely without hope. I've been there, and it's the worst state of survival. And I just know, that for as long as he's alive, I will be too.