I wonder when I'll actually start seeing a difference on my body. When my bones are sticking out everywhere, perhaps. I just don't know what the fuck I'm feeling today it's like mix of every single emotion but they're all faint. Like when I walked down to the grocery store I felt awesome, then I was close to crying for no reason. For every reason. For K, for the disaster that is my life, for life and death and everything beyond. It didn't hit me very hard or I think I would have broken down crying, more like it just touched my shoulder or something.
I keep thinking how can I starve myself to death with my family doing everything they can to keep me alive? Or they will, as soon as they find out about my relapse. If I hit 44 kg or less by Christmas, or if I'm at least just barely underweight, and refuse recovery how can I just continue starving until I die? What would I say to my mother? Just repeat I'm sorry, I'm sorry like a broken record?
Or somehow try to keep it to myself, say that I'm trying to eat but in fact I'm trying my hardest not to eat? How far could that kind of deception even take me? I don't want her crying herself to sleep because her son is purposely starving himself to death and there's absolutely nothing that she can do about it. I don't want her ever knowing exactly what my intentions really are.
I don't think I want anyone in real life knowing that. Let's just let them know I have relapsed into my ED and it's killing me and I'm "not ready" to get help just yet but that maybe someday I will be. Dealing with other people's worry and care will likely be the hardest thing ever during this slow suicide. I will be dying for months before I'll actually die. I might be ready for that, but no one else will likely ever be.
So yeah, I do keep that in my mind and heart and it does hurt me that I will hurt my loved ones so much. I might be living alone and spend most of my time alone, but I still have a very strong connection to my family. They only live a few miles away (or about 9-10 kilometers) and I feel constantly watched over by them. For better or worse, they're keeping a very watchful eye on me.
I can't escape their compassion and when shit really starts hitting the fan, they will keep all eyes available on me and probably try to force me to come live with them so that they can keep me under even more surveillance. I would refuse of course, but all I'm trying to say is that I won't get away that easily. Oh damn I just feel like escaping and dying somewhere else far far away... I wish and I can dream, but it won't become that way.
If I get to decide, I would go to England. There I could disappear, in my favourite country on this horrible Earth. I've never even been there, so not sure if it would live up to my expectations. I would go if I had the money, but as of now, I can't even afford going to Uppsala, I can barely even afford a bus ticket to Visby. I'm living over my income with my cigarette habit. I could take all the money my mother gives me at the end of a month and leave with that though, but I wouldn't be able to live very long on just 5-6000 kr. Not while I'm smoking for half of that in a month.
But yeah, I dream of going knowing I might never actually be able to. Just me and Anna, to a country I've never been to before. Get lost in London, spending whatever little money I have on expensive drinks and clothes, stay at the shittiest hotel room I can find, and just exist there until I literally die. Yeah... a pretty dream. But I know at least I won't die here on Gotland, I'll try to make sure of that. At least go to Uppsala for my death, at fucking least.
My parents might not let me go, if I'm extremely thin and malnourished by then. But I'm just out of fucks to give when it comes to that. Of course they should let me see my friends just one more time before I die though. But they might not even let me go alone. I'd find a way to die alone in Uppsala even if I have my mother tagging along. If I find a roof, just sneak out late at night when everyone's sleeping and then spend half a day there until time draws near 15:22 and then... yeah. It's a plan as good as any. But not until spring/summer though.
I want one more summer before I go. And I hope it's gonna be warm and sunny and beautiful. I'll flaunt my bones wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. Scare the living crap out of people on the streets. And bathe in lakes or swimming pools on the warmest days. I didn't really enjoy this summer at all. I didn't bathe, barely went outside of my apartment at all. Never went out bare chested because I felt so horribly fat and disgusting.
My body has hindered me for so long, I hope to one day finally be able to not hate it, to not feel so very limited by it. Trapped inside it. I want to view it more as a vessel than as a prison. I remember years before my transition, when I was actually more or less comfortable with my body. I was curvy at a healthy weight and damn I rocked those curves! What made me hate them?
I lived under the illusion that I could be a girl if I just decided that I wanted to be one. I stuffed away my true identity so far down and away that I barely even noticed its existence. So heck yeah, I wore revealing clothes and really accentuated those curves. Push-up bras with extra padding, short flared skirts barely covering my huge butt, high heels, corsets to make my waist look thinner, long hair, lots and lots of make-up. I dolled up full time and yeah I freaking loved it.
I don't even know what happened, what made me suddenly snap and hate my body so extremely much. From flaunting it to hiding it in 2 seconds flat. I was never ashamed for how I chose to dress during most of my teenage years, I accept it was who I was or was trying to be. And I do blame my transsexualism for giving me an eating disorder. It just turned my self hatred up-side-down and inside-out and completely destroyed me. Maybe being transsexual was the worst thing that could ever happen to me.
Not that it's a thing that happens, but I'm sure you know what I mean. That realising my true identity destroyed me. And I'm so so so jealous of other trans people who feel better after their transition. They who can at least on some level, feel comfortable in their own skin. Maybe it's not my identity that destroys me, but my awful genes, making it impossible for me to get the body I so desperately need. And having some kind of body dysmorphia really doesn't help.
Like... I'm mostly okay with my upper body, if only it was bonier. I like my wide shoulders, my flat chest, my arms are okay too. But then the rest of me is just horrible. I literally cannot live with it. I'm starving myself to death because I can't live with how my body looks at a healthy weight. Maybe I am that vain, just focusing too damn much on what I look like on the outside so to the point it fucking blinds me.
But it affects me so much cause I know that what you look like is the first thing anyone sees. It's what people judge you by, even without realising it. And why care so much about what other people think? I ask myself in the midst of all this. Why is it so god damn important? I remember when I used to not care. It was up until I was about 18-19 years old. I didn't give a shit about what other people thought of me. I wish to go back to that mindset, but I think it's way too late for that now.
Now getting thin is the only thing I fucking care about, how did it become that way? I only wanted to get back down to a healthy weight, 60 kg was my goal. Then 57, then 53, then 50, then 47 then 44. Soon enough no number higher than 0 will be low enough. I wonder what weight I'll eventually die at. Hopefully not higher than I am now at least. I hope I'll be so thin that there's literally nothing left of me, I want to disappear. So tired of feeling fat no matter what I do, I just want all the fat on me gone. And death is my true ultimate goal weight.
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