Misery and dependency

First purge in over a month. Anna asks me how that feels and only one word comes to my mind: "Awful." Maybe I'll use that mechanism to deal with my inability to restrict, as a way to keep my calorie count down at least somewhat. And I keep switching between something like purging disorder and atypical anorexia. Guess that really does make me ednos.

Now I can't make my eyes and nose stop running and as soon as I try to take a deep breath I cough and every time I do I fear I will involuntarily vomit some more. It's almost priceless what a horrible thing that is to do to oneself. But I guess, I just don't have a bottom to sink to. It's all just trap doors and I just keep getting lower. During late 2010 I said for the last time the words "it can't get any worse than this" cause I swear not even two minutes passed before it actually got worse.

From then on I knew there is no bottom to get to. It's all just endless darkness. And I've been falling free from the age of... I don't even know. 15, 12, 9, 4, 0? How far back can I even count? So yeah, purging isn't really the lowest low for me, as there just isn't such a thing. There is no limit as to how badly I can harm myself, physically or emotionally. I drive myself insane, I do anything to drive myself out of it, and back in again.

I don't even know where I want to be, insane or sane. I guess I will never really know as they both scare me and I am beyond lost in the mix of the two. Yes, I'm striving for insanty just as much as I'm striving for sanity and I just can't make up my mind on where I want to be. Ethereal, otherworldly, out of this place. Something else, something else entirely.

And I ask myself how can my spark even live? If I keep driving myself in and out of insanity not knowing where I want to be, I'm wearing myself out and I do believe that in the end it will kill me. Definitely and for sure. Physically and in every single sense. Yet I cannot stop, I won't stop, I don't even want to. I don't think I'm searching for perfection or a middle ground, I think I'm just so completely lost.

Okay I just have to side track and say that I really hate it when a certain woman from the crew calls me. She's supposed to be my second contact person and I hate her. I despise most of them but this one is really getting on my nerves. Every time she calls she first asks me how I am and I say "fine" and then she asks if I've been to school which I mostly truthfully answer, then she asks again how I am to which I'm starting to get really testy. And more and more testy every time she does that.

She's just sooo damn distracted and doesn't care jack. And I'm getting snappier and snappier until I will literally just fucking snap at her. Give a damn or get out of my life, I want to yell at her. At first I could tolerate her, but sadly, the more I get to know her the more I just despise her. I never thought I could hate individual people, snap at them, yell at them and insult them like I do with the crew. They are beyond getting on my nerves and I just can't... I can't even... I don't have words.

I've never behaved that way around any other people in my life. I feel good lying to them, cause they don't deserve my truth. But I don't feel so good when I'm snapping, yelling and insulting. Then I just feel cornered, lost and helpless. I'm dependent on them. They fucking own me and I'm at their service. But I stopped caring, I stopped giving a damn about my apartment that I'm supposed to call my home. I stopped hoping for a better future and somehow... nothing matters anymore.

So, I don't even know why I keep being polite to them. I know they're just human beings trying to help completely helpless people like me, but come on. Half the time they're doing an awful job and the other half I'm doing an awful job in being cooperative. We just don't meet halfway, or anywhere at all. I'm so sick of it. Of being bound to their laws. Someday I will break free, live in a normal apartment again without having to abide to their laws. I'll probably ruin the damn place, but that' not the point. The point is, I don't care what happens to me. I'll always have roof over my head nonetheless. That safety I'll always have, for as long as my parents are alive at least.

I've just given up. On life, on ever feeling like home anywhere, so it doesn't matter where I am. I'm getting drunker now, three glasses in. I can't decide which of the two massive texts to post but I think I'll take them in chronological order, so this one comes last. Yeah, I'll post them both.