Surviving this

And I remember that K liked this song when I shared it on tumblr. It must have been many months ago, before my disappearance from the internet. I wonder if he too listens to that band, one of my favourites, or if he just took the time to listen and liked it out of the blue. Now I'm stuck looking at an older photo of him (from maybe 1-2 years ago) that his partner uploaded on tumblr.

Their sweet romance still hurts in the remains of my heart, but I try to be happy for them, or at least for him. I'm back by my computer only briefly, as this is my lunch break. I decided to go home and have a cup of coffee for lunch, hiding my lack of eating from my classmates and hopefully silence my growling stomach for the remaining two hours I have at school for today. Or technically it's just one and a half hour.

I changed the layout in my book with all the calorie counting and shit like that, to only write down drinks, total calories, burned calories and net calories. Instead of also including food that I've eaten. Just to push it harder, I still stand by my decision to not eat. I'm gonna break down my body, bit by bit. I've walked for 30 minutes already today, and it will be more, cause now I have to go back to school. Or I'll just stay at home, damn, now I can't decide...

So damn tired of everything. Today I'm hopelessness and despair. My lack of care shows no respect. How do I even survive the weekend, how do I even survive today? Fuck school, I don't care. My mood is unstable, trembling in the air. I'll get rid of my food once the cravings come, whether that be at day or night. Just throw it all in the garbage, all that I'm craving. What a waste, I know, but I have no other way of dealing with this. I need to take my cravings by the collar and shake them until they fucking die.

Cause I want to believe that I'm stronger than my body, that my mind can take the upper hand and run this machinery. Or stop it from running. That I'm in control, not my body and not my eating disorder. Me. And also I can't help but thinking about how thin fasting like this could possibly make me. But becoming thin is no longer my number one priority, causing harm is. Crashing is. I want to crash and burn. Change my ednos into anorexia and keep going until I die.

I have so much weight to lose to get there. I've set my goal to reaching 50 kg by Christmas, I think that's reasonable enough, but I also think that I can lose more. Especially if I manage to make this a very long fast. I would like to be able to make it through for 7 days at least, making it my longest fast so far. But then 14 days would be better, and 21 days even better. Then I just have to crash or I'll be such a fucking failure I wouldn't know what to do or believe anymore. But if I reach that point, 21 days, I guess I could keep going forever if I have to.

Fast all the way until Christmas. And I've been thinking what if it lands me in the hospital and that's the way my mother will find out? It would be cruel to her. But this is a cruel world and my mind is cruel. The more I can drag it out, the better. If I get to decide, which I might not, I'd rather tell my mother about it a couple of weeks before Christmas and not before then. Hopefully I won't still be a fatass with ednos by then, hopefully I'll be thin and frail and full blown anorexic.

I'll keep trying to hide my weight loss from my family and my shrink, but I don't hide it at school. I wear my tightest jeans that are starting to sit loosely on me by now and fairly tight shirts and sweaters. I layer up of course, but that's because I don't want to freeze my ass off. I don't purposely hide my weight loss there. I want them to see me getting thinner and thinner.

Don't know why, but I crave it somehow. Yet no one's said anything, but I've only lost 6-7 kg so far. Plan to lose at least 6 more kg throughout November, and possibly another 6 throughout December. But if I fast for weeks at an end I can lose much more than that and a hella lot faster. If I fast for 1 week I could lose up to 3-4 kg perhaps, and 6-8 kg if I do it for 2 weeks and 9-12 kg if for 3 weeks. So I should have reached my goal already after 2 weeks, and my ugw after yet another week.

But it's not certain I'll be able to go fully through with this, I might crash after just a few days, or it might take weeks. I might not be able to fight the cravings and give in for food anywhere along the way. But yeah, I guess my goal would be to fast for 3 weeks, if I have one. Then if I'm at 44 kg, I might either maintain or try to get down to 40 or 38 kg.

If people surrounding me would even remotely let me. I might spend Christmas at a hospital for doing this, but I just don't care. That holiday means nothing to me me anymore, except from food anxiety and the guilt over hurting my family members with my hopeless eating problems.

So to me it doesn't matter where I am. Let's just call it the end of December just like the end of any other month, let's just hope I'll even live that long. Cause I don't know if I will. I might, I might also not. But somewhere in my broken heart I think I will. I will have to endure one last Christmas and it's gonna be awful.

Barely two months, I have, how much damage can I cause in that time? I don't think much about the next year, it seems so very far away at this point. But in less than two months it will be January and I don't know what the new year will give me, if I'll ever get to it. If I get to change the calendar one more time, if I get to make silly New Year's resolutions that I won't be able to fulfill. I don't know anything.

First I need to survive all of November with less food than what a mouse eats in just one day, then we can start talking about December, then 2016. I didn't even choose the 5th of November to be the start of my longest fast ever, it's like the date just chose me. And I will always remember this day now. Perhaps not all the details, but I'll remember it cause of my choice to stop eating.

It's spinning in my head, my whole head is spinning. I'm so tired, will probably take a nap soon. My stomach hurts, it's just the start. My mother was just here for a visit mainly to give me more pills. I lied about eating but told the truth about the chantarelle sauce I had made yesterday. I mostly try to not say so much at all about my eating habits, to not my embellish lies too much. Keep it simple and believable.

My words ran out and I just got back up from the couch. Filling myself up with more coffee and cigarette smoke, back to default position. I can feel it ripping and tearing inside of me, I want the world to know who it is that I love, but I just can't do that. I'd have to have his permission if I'd ever do that. And so far, he doesn't even know. At least I don't think so. But the day I will tell him, I don't think he'll be that surprised.

Cause I want for him to at least have noticed that he means a lot to me, on whatever level. And I can't help but think that what if he knew it all along? And all those few times we met in person I just wanted him to notice when I looked deeply into his just a bit too long, or when I held on to our friendly hugs, all those times I "accidentally" stroke his hands whenever he gave me something or whatever, when I blushed, when my heart was beating so fast I could hardly breathe and all I could think about was how close he was right in that very second.

I wonder so much, but I also know. I know how hard it is to notice such signs. They were still rather small and could just have been me being awkward with my asperger and what not. How does one even show love and affection to someone who might not want it? I don't think he'd ever reject me as a friend, but that he can't accept my love.

He doesn't have to accept it, embrace it, understand it or anything. All I'd want is for him to hear me out and that I know he will. He never ignored me, never run over me with his words, he always listens and we discuss whatever is on both of our minds. Part of why I love him. Because he's never been like those people who never give me space to breathe, to speak or to explain. No, he might talk more than I do (who doesn't?) but then he turns to me and asks for my opinion. I really do believe that he does care about me and value my words. And that's enough for me, damn, that's more than enough.

Yeah, I know that I speak so highly of him, but is it really so wrong with focusing on what is amazing rather than his flaws? I know he has such too, I'm not stupid, just crazy. Slightly obsessed but mostly I just love him endlessly. I have no real outlet for my feelings, if I don't write them down I swear they'll drown me. So I wouldn't consider this being me obsessing over him, I just have to unbottle all of my feelings somehow. They're so very powerful, one of the most powerful things I've ever felt, for anyone or anything.

I know I can never have the life that I want. With him. And I'm still processing that sorrow as well as I can, but it's not exactly happening over night. It's been months. And after each heartbreak it's taken me longer and longer to repair, until I couldn't repair fully anymore. My heart has been in pieces since January 2011 and it never fully restored again. I don't think it ever will. First off, because I'm not letting go of K it means my love for him can possibly break my heart again, and secondly because I just won't live long enough for my heart to heal. It would take too long.

I can live with it though, or I'll survive. Managed that the past almost five years so. Will I ever get to have any good days anymore? If I do, they'll definitely be countable. I'm shutting off again. Become distant with the same thoughts slamming and echoing in my head. Cause I do believe that some hearts just can't heal, I really do, no matter what some people might say. My heart is broken beyond repair. All I can do is keep it somewhat in the right place, but not even that I can succeed with.

You know that saying, about when someone has their heart in the right place? That's what I'm thinking about, and for some reason I don't think my heart is. Not all the time, at least. It's rumbling about a little bit of everywhere. So it both is and it isn't. I've done terrible things, crossed over the line between good and evil and back again. Erased that line completely by stomping too much on it. I'm somewhere in between, I'm both and neither.

But I can survive, at least just a little bit longer. My past isn't driving me to suicide, although perhaps it should. And I've been trying to figure out for weeks why I so desperately want to die, but all I can think of is that I'm tired of living. Maybe that's enough of a reason, maybe no reason is ever enough.