As of now, I am crying hysterically. My eyes will not stop watering, burning my sight away. My mother, who had drank maybe half a bottle of hard liquor, was crying. She told me all types of things, and it was a breakdown... a breakdown. She told me how she cries every time she is driving, how her and my ex-father fight, how she wants to die, too. How she wants to leave my brother, my sister, and myself. How much she cares for me. How much pain she is in, and how much she determines her well-being by my well-being. How she called five doctors today, asking how bad fourty something advils are to her daughter. How much the thought of my desire to disappear and die pains her.

"Every time you cry tears, I cry tears of blood."

With those words, I lost myself, drowning myself in this sea. I don't know what to do to say. All I know is that I am crying, crying, crying my little heart out with no need to stop. My notebook in front of me, its covered with these drops falling so steadily from my face. Who knew I could have ever become such an unhappy girl? I am not myself, but in so many ways, I'm more myself than I have ever been. When I was born, I was not meant to be this monster that I am today. No one expected this to happen, nor did I anticipate such a reality, such a nightmare.

I cry, and I can't stop. I don't know what to do with myself, whether to live with that risk or to die with that ignorance.

"They say it's better to bury your sadness in a graveyard or garden that waits for the spring to awake from its sleep and burst into green. I've cried and you would think I would better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it says in your spine." --Bright Eyes; The City has Sex

I've been "seeing" or whatever, this guy named Jonny. He is an anoretic, and I worry about him. He tries his best to put a smile on his face every day, but I can tell it's all lies. I tell him that he's wonderful, and then he holds me, comforting me. I shouldn't allow him to comfort me. I should be helping him... He attends another high school, but nevertheless, we've been seeing each other every day now. (Well, almost every day.) Honestly, I feel happy when I am around him. He is the only person that I have ever told/talked to about my eating disorder around here, and I'm grateful. (Well, besides family and doctors, but they are bullshit.) I'm thankful that I've got someone around here that can make me smile and giggle away like a little school girl. We're not "an official couple" exactly, which I am overly happy about.

It's always better when things are a bit mysterious, when two people feel like they're deceiving the entire world, even if the entire world doesn't care.

I'm saving up money for a plane ticket to New York. I should be leaving for New York soon. I'm getting there, money-wise. I had a fruit salad today, breaking another fast. Jonny doesn't eat. At all. I worry, but at the same time, I understand. It's all a bit confusing. Nevertheless, I am content right now.

Love,
Gabrielle

There was this girl, a young sad girl who seemed to always have these ongoing, neverending hostilities toward herself. She grew up in an environment of abuse and alcohol, but she understood soon that life may not always be so kind. She had the love of her brother and sister, and for that, she was thankful.

Now, this girl - She had gone through a few traumas at quite a young age, and these traumas soon turned into self-hatred. This level of such hatred grew and grew and grew, entangling itself in her every thought, opinion, and sleep.

"You meaningless, trivial, useless existance", she whispered one day.

She had her ways of coping, but sometimes those methods failed her. She decided it was time to sleep in peace for once, and swallow the pills, she did. Two, four, six, eight, ten... And she lost count. No need to count once you've gone over the recommended dosage. No way to turn back once you've gone over the recommended dosage, but everything failed, once again. Doctors told her she was lucky, and friends told her she should be grateful, but all that ran through her mind was that even Death would not have her.

Even Death would not have her.

Why is she still here?

¡°Maybe self-improvement isn't the answer.
Maybe self-destruction is the answer.¡±

Sorry for not responding to a lot of your comments lately. I promise to do so when I am feeling a bit better.

I always feel terrible after a day of drugging myself away. However, I think the high is worth it, don't you? Whatever, like I fucking care. I have let my brother and sister down today. I didn't get into an honors class due to a misunderstanding between a teacher and me. As stupid as this conflict may seem to you all, this stupid problem of mine is destroying me today.

I despise the failing perfectionist within me.

I don't want to please everyone but apparently that's all my mind and intentions revolve around. Every unnatural laugh piercing my mind and energy, every smile painted for a useless photograph, every lie to deceive each selfish being - I'm ready to do all that. Just give me the freedom to disappear and dismantle myself. Give me that one thing, and the rest, I can endure for as long as I stand.

Starve, slash, starve, slash. Bleed little girl. Bleed away an ounce and then another. Maybe that number will go down. Maybe if you lose enough blood, you'll be closer to zero.