rex duodecim angelus.

i want legs that bow out like parenthesis but never touch; ribs that stick out, stark, like a shipwreck; collarbones i can hide behind; double digits on the scale.


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ive had 300 calories today and i wont have any more. im going to burn this all off and more. im going to keep up restricting and exercising and purging, but i wont weigh myself for a while. i feel ... excited that im jumping back into this with such fervor, i suppose. it's been binge/purge or just binge for the last few weeks. now im starving until i feel the symptoms, until i shrink.


i missed this. its sad and pathetic and it ruins lives but i missed being in the thick of it, in the fray, in the chrysalis. its sick but its safe and its, really, all i want right now.

rat rider.

More puking, more laxatives. I'm really tired, and I think I've gained instead of lost. I'm probably much closer to my highest weight than I am comfortable with, so I'm terrified to weigh myself. I'm staying away from the scale until the space between my thighs begins to show itself, again. 

I can't believe I've gained so much from being 120 lbs. How did I fuck that up? I was underweight and so strong, so in control. What the fuck happened to me? Obviously, I just got fat.

Pat is losing weight, too. We're probably very close a far as our weight goes. I'm happy for him, very happy, because he's never really been skinny, and he's gaining a lot of confidence. I just need to be smaller than him. This need of mine makes me the worst person in the world.

All the more reason to starve, right?

Cyclic is the word.