Saturday, Mar. 29, 2003/9:47 pm

not enough

I just threw up blood yet again.

The cuts on my stomach have been torn open again from rubbing against my top. Small red lines are traced through the cotton.

I'm shaking, i have been all day.

I'm sorry, i'm sorry if i'm worrying any of you.

I went out to try and find some jeans that fit me. Eventually settled on some after three hours of looking. I also bought a good belt and a tub of 100 laxatives. I'll take 7 before i go to bed, or 10, depending on how much i weigh.

I saw a friend from school. I looked such a mess, mascara smudged under my eyes, food on my clothes from purging. He took me by suprise, then he hugged me, twice, and all i kept thinking about was 'he can feel the fat, my flesh, he must think i'm so revolting...'

I said things would be alright once i got to 90.

They're not.

So far from okay.

Pushing myself on into twisted brambles.

Persevering when they sting, attack, bite into my legs.

It's just not enough, when will it ever be?

I won't stop until i find out. I can't.