i want to throw up right now.

i want a bathroom to myself. i want running water that would cover up the sound. i want these vile substances out of my body, my sugar enemies. i want to find pleasure in places other than the taste and smell and texture of sustenance. i want to be in control and never eat too much, never eat more than tiny portions to feel full. i want a weakened heart and limbs that look as if they could be snapped in half by a breath of wind. i want to be as ugly outside as i am inside, but in that beautiful sort of way, not the ruinous one in which i currently marinate.

i want to not want these things. i want to not be repetitious because i say the same thing every time and it never matters. i want to pretend i didn't just write this and i want to go to sleep.

past future

last five entries:
blisters and bruises - 03.18.08
dorsey - 03.13.07
finding peace - 02.02.07
unintentional clean slate - 09.11.06
natural born cyborg - 06.23.06