Letters to No One.

Dear Creepy Guy At the Dance, 

Thanks so much for feeling me up and shoving your tongue down my throat. I wasn't that drunk, and it's really nice that you've helped me lose what little trust I had for humanity. 

Dear T, 

Thanks for being such a good friend, and for offering to hit CGATD. (Please don't though) And for helping me get a cab after I slept through the first one. And Thanks for continuing to text me as I had a constant panic attack in the cab and the airport. And while I was in Georgia to make sure everything was going ok. And thanks for offering to be there for me, even if I don't believe you. 

Dear K, 

Your wedding was beautiful and so were you. Sorry for tripping when I was supposed to go speak. You know how graceful I am, especially in my stupid heels. I hope your married life is amazing. I love you. 

Dear Mom and Dad, 

Thanks for having faith in me and believing that I'm telling you the truth. It makes it easier to lie when we keep it simple like this. 

Dear Struggling Friends, 

It breaks my heart to hear/read about hard times you're going through, but I know how strong you all are. You're all so much better than this monster and I wish you could all see your beauty and fabulous characters. I hope everything looks up and I know what I've just said is the shittiest thing to say, because it doesn't help. But words are pretty meaningless in the grand scheme of things anyway. I wish I had better advice, but clearly I don't really know how to handle it either. <3 kafsjldjlas;fjka I'm sorry this had to happen to any of you. None of you deserve it. 

Dear Georgia, 

Thanks for being so fucking memorable of my life before college. It makes me hate you but at the same time I want to crawl in my bed forever. 

Dear Chicago, 

Thanks for helping me forget. 

Dear Eating Disorder, 

I hope you're enjoying your stay. If there's anything I can do to make it more hospitable, BY ALL MEANS let me know. Also, fuck you. Please stop controlling me. But please stay, I'm raw and vulnerable without you here. 

love, 

me. 

What a Mess.

I shouldn't be here. At college.

Yesterday was both the best and worst day I've had since I've been here.

The worst if I'm being honest. But, I went to class and then went into the city with my roommate, C. I'm going home next weekend for literally 24 hours so I can be at a wedding that I don't want to be at. A wedding for a sister figure in my life that is no longer a sister figure. She was a person that was there for me for everything throughout my childhood. Up until high school, pretty much. I could call her crying and she'd come over. (They lived across the street...not hard to do) She would take me to the mall or to lunch and make me feel special. I was best friends with her younger sister. I don't think we were ever really friends. I think it was always forced. When you meet someone at age 2, you don't have a personality. You can't not like another 2 year old. We were always together. Until we realized that we didn't really mesh, I guess. Around sophomore year it got pretty shitty. We spend holidays together, with their family...but I'm better friends with her older sisters. K is the one getting married, M is a couple years younger. CH is the one my age. I don't know. I just don't want to be at the wedding. I don't want to spend time with people that mean so much and so little to me at the same time. They all hurt me. I'm excited to be home for a little bit though. I wish it was for longer, and for a different reason. I wish I could see some of the people from ACE for a little bit that are helping me even though I'm far away and not at ACE anymore. But I'm getting home at 2pm on Saturday. The wedding is that same night. I'm leaving at 10am on Sunday. This long thing was to say, I went to the city to get a dress for the wedding. I'm speaking at it...reading something after the vows. I have to look nice... but we'll see about that. I was almost in tears in the dressing room because I looked so big. I hate that I can be so affected by how I see myself. I kept saying to C that I looked terrible in all of the dresses, etc. etc. and she kept saying I didn't. I know I don't "see myself" correctly...I don't really get how that works. How I can look one way and see a huge monster in the mirror.

I purged everything I ate yesterday. I never even waited in between to consolidate the amount of times. I was in a terrible place emotionally once I got back to school after the city. I should have put a movie on and gone to bed. But I went to T's suite and took way too many shots of Captain Morgan. I know how to drink responsibly, I do it often. But to be responsible, I can't be drinking when I'm not thinking straight sober. I can't be drinking when I have purged everything that day. But I did. I drank too much to drink when I am thinking straight. T and his friends kept saying that I was a badass, to take 2 double shots in a row. Somewhere before all of the liquor settled in, I went outside with T for a cigarette. He asked me how I got the cut on my hand and the scars on my wrist. (Cat. It's always a cat.) No. I didn't have inhibitions. "Scissors and a razor blade" He hugged me for a long time. He asked me why I'd ever do that to myself and I told him I'm fucked up in the head. He told me to keep going and I told him about the eating disorder. He just continued to hug me and tell me he was always there for me. Once I realized what I had just done, I flipped my shit and told him it wasn't true, etc. He just said that it was okay and that he's glad I told him. He was drunk too. I hope he doesn't remember. But considering that I remember after having more than him...that's probably not very likely. Some time went by and I got extremely sick. I was laying on the futon and they just kept holding cups up to my face so I could puke in them. It went on for two hours or so until T finally let me close my eyes. C said that he stayed up watching me sleep to make sure I was ok. I apologized this morning and he just brushed it off saying "it happens, we're in college" but I should have been more responsible than that. I'm not as mad that I drank too much and got sick, because T's right. That DOES happen. I'm mad that I drank knowing I had no food in me, knowing that I had a lot of shit on my mind I needed to forget. I'm mad that T apparently cares about me.

I've known him for 2 weeks.

People don't do shit like that. Normal people point you toward the bathroom and laugh at you. T sits in front of the futon putting cups up to my mouth and keeping me awake. He kept checking to make sure there wasn't blood...because then he said he was taking me to the hospital. I'm surprised there wasn't blood...the way my throat feels. He's a nice guy. Okay, that's good. But why would he give a shit about me? Me. I could go into a long spiel about how I don't accept that people can care about me, but I'll skip the melodrama and say that I don't want to leave my dorm or face T again. I want to go to Georgia and lay in my huge, comfortable bed forever.

not butterflies and rainbows.

I'm finally here--at college. I was at ACE from January to August counting down the days and telling everyone that once I got to college, that'd be it. I'd be healed. Magically. It'd be Butterflies and Rainbows and pure happiness and bliss. And everyone said "stop biting your time. it doesn't work like that" and I nodded and said I knew, but really I was thinking "you know nothing, go fuck yourself". So I broke my record of one month purge-free my second day in Illinois. Anxiety is eating me alive and I'm quickly spiraling down to where I was when I got chucked into IOP at ACE in January. Multiple purges in a day...I'm getting into inpatient territory here and I know it. It's not even bingeing. I'm not even eating normal meals, I'm restricting and purging...so of course when I had a blood test my levels were insanely fucked up and now I'm going to some hospital for groups. My old individual was right. She said she didn't think I was ready to go. She said "good luck, I hope everything works out...I just don't think you're ready". So I didn't talk to her in sessions for a month. I'm so mature. I want my first individual back. I haven't even seen her since December, but I was the most connected with her. And only two at ACE..out of a grand total of 14 or something...counting the useless interns. Anyway. This is going nowhere...just like my recovery.

It's really hard to love yourself after hating yourself for so long. That's what I've come to. 5 years later and I still detest every part of myself. I carry around that stupid shell from ACE. It's in my purse. I don't know where to put it, so I just left it there. I see it every once and a while when I look for stuff in my purse, and it's the strangest feeling of warmth and acceptance. And regret.

It's not that I'm having a bad time. Because I'm not. But when I'm having fun, it's usually because I'm drunk or high. Or both. Like last night...which was the best night I've had so far, and I was drunk and high with an insanely hot guy. But he ruined it by being all over me. Which brings up the irony of wanting a relationship extremely bad because I want to feel loved. But I can't be touched. I don't want to kiss anyone...I don't even want to hug or hold hands. I don't want to be loved because I know it'll end and I don't know if I can be loved. I don't think I can accept it. I feel like such an idiot saying I "can't" be touched. I've had nothing traumatic happen to me relating to that...but I hate when people are affectionate towards me. I hate being brushed up against, and do not hug me unless you ask first...I feel like such an idiot for acting like that. I have no reason to. Am I just that much of a cold-hearted bitch? Apparently. I should've gone to inpatient this summer and gone to UGA or something. That's not what I wanted but I don't want to be in this place emotionally either. Getting out of Georgia made it worse because of my anxiety--according to the ACE scale...I'm a constant 10. Unless, of course I'm high. I should really stop drinking and smoking so I don't have other addictions to worry about. Fuck it. Maybe groups will help. Or maybe my parents will say "what the fuck, you're not better? ok. You're out of school, go to inpatient and then live at home until you can figure your goddamned life out".

SOMEONE BUILD ME A TIME MACHINE.