My mother hugged me this morning and for the first time addressed what's going on, "You're withering away, sweetie." And then she smiled. So maybe it was just a joke, maybe it's not.

I have lost another pound...pound in a half. I don't know. I keep getting caught up in this cycle of not eating at all, and then eating really crappy food and throwing it up. I haven't held anything down but fluids yesterday. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. I was gagging in my sleep last night, trying to keep some bread down. I finally had to get up, against my will, and throw it up, and then go back to bed exhausted. I was really upset last night because I wasn't able to post a blog then and this is like my lifeline. This blog is what keeps me connected to the outside. The outside world that I feel like an outsider to. It's my last thread before I become estranged completely.

Today I'm going to try to just eat soup throughout the day so I won't feel so weak and so that maybe I can keep it down. If a doctor heard this, then I'm sure I'd get locked up or put on even more meds so I'm saying it here: part of me is making myself throw up, I think. She's making me starve. There is a voice in my head when I eat calling me a fat pig, there is a voice in my head that says...it's okay, throw it up and it will be okay. It feels like it's not me, but I know it is. It's just another part of my subconcious desires to waste away, to wither away.

But I don't want to be that way. I just want to lose a little more. I know that's the understatement of the year and that I'm always saying this, but I feel like I can stop once I get to my goal. I don't know what I'm going to do then but I look the same even though I have lost weight, I look like the exact same. I'm sure of it, because no one but my mom has said anything and she had to hug me to even tell I've lost anything.

I don't really want to talk about how I'm doing right now because it's basically same old, same old and I know that gets boring. I feel like a lost cause, a loser. So I try to keep on the subject of the things around me, on making a difference about them. Because I know I sometimes feel hopeless to make a difference when it comes to myself.

Anyway, I'm seeing all of my friends do things like get boyfriends or have crushes or secret admirers, going places...doing things. I envy them but at the same time I don't. I just want to stay here until I get to my goal and then go out and do stuff. But I know I can't think that way, because my goal is endless. So I'm trying to do things. I'm trying to go somewhere. It's hard when you feel like a failure and your mind is telling you you suck at everything. I haven't seen my therapist since last week. I don't know what I will tell him when I do. I don't want to talk to him.

I'm so tired of this, you know? I really want to turn my brain off for like one second to see what other people think about. Whenever you're wondering what I'm thinking about, it's always this. Never anything interesting or productive. Just this. I'm going nowhere.

A few nights ago I considered getting help because I'm so tired. I'm tired of this and I just want to stop myself. But then the voice in my head said that I'm way too big to get help, and that compared to all the other girls who are anorexic, I'd look fat. This goes against everything I stand for but I listened because it's all I have.