There is an interrelation between eating and self loathing for me. I cannot do one without the other. I don't know why exactly I'm losing it lately but I am. Maybe I'm finding it hard to believe that I will ever be beautiful, that I will ever be fragile. I went for lunch with my friend S today. She's suspecting something, she saw the burns on my hand last week and she knows how important weight and food is to me. I made a point to not appear in any way broken. I ordered a cheese burger and she seemed surprised. She honestly wasn't expecting me to eat. I'm disappointed I did. I also made it a point to not visit the restroom after we were finished, I was too scared the word bulimia would come to her mind. That's too close to home.

I don't know why one single meal makes me feel like I ate a whole army of elephants today. People eat that all the time, and some even on a daily basis, yet why can't I seem to accept that as normal? To me normal means hungry, faint, smelling of ciggarettes. But regardless, I am in a complete binge state of mind lately, and I hate it. My friend is coming to stay with me tomorrow night until monday, so I'm going to have to live a normal life for a few days. Eating, being social, being fun... it sounds hard.

Once she's gone I'm really gonna need to fast. I'm scared to think what the scale will say after this weekend.