What is love?...

The question so often arises, yet no one can truly answer it in a "proper" way. Love is merely different to everyone. It effects each individual in an original and special way, so no one can truly answer that question "correctly". But I am here right now, to share my version of the feeling. And I know what you are all thinking "How the fuck can a fifteen year old give an opinion on love?". Well, it may seem crazy, but I have had my share of love already - despite my young age.

So today, I will share with you, how I would answer this popular question...

What is love? Love, to me, is so many things. And I'm talking about the special kind obviously - the kind of love you don't feel for your friends, or family members.

Love is when you think about that special person, and feel so overwhelmed with happiness and joy, and obviously love for them, that you can't even bear it. You just want to shout it right there, right then, that you love said person so incredibly much. And when they're not there with you, you want to text them, call them, something just to remind them of how much you truly love them.

Love is when you think of the future with the person you're in love with, and get excited, and ridiculously ready to just skip ahead, and start it. You don't get nervous, or scared, or anxious. You're just ready - ready for the day that marks the rest of your lives' together - to get to hold each other in bed each night, wake up next to the one you love each morning, and see their lovely face, comfort each other when you're at your worst, listen and understand each other, grow old together.

Love is when you realise kids aren't so bad after all - that you actually kind of want a couple of the little ankle biters yourself now, because it just feels so right, and so wonderful to think about.

Love is when everything becomes more enjoyable again - when you suddenly have a thirst for life, and a hunger for the days to come - when you become happier, and an overall better person, if you are in love with the right one.

Love is talking for hours about something completely silly, and not caring because you're just so happy to be with them - doing anything, or nothing at all, it doesn't matter. When you're with the one you love, it just doesn't matter what happens, or what you do. Because it simply isn't important.

Love is worrying about the other person when you're not with them, because you are terrified of losing them. Love is when you'd lay down your life for the other person, and not have a single doubt in mind.

Love is so many things, and I could sit here for hours listing my answer to this common question. All I know is, is that no matter if you are in your teens, or your twenties, or your thirties, forties, fifties, and so on - love is possible. Finding the one you want to be with for the rest of your life is possible, no matter if you are 16 or 60, it is real, and it is love. Now I won't say that all teenagers are really in love when they think they are, but some are. It is pretty rare, but it happens, and I know this.

So say what you may. I know I am young, I know I have not experienced quite a lot yet, but I have experienced this. And it is a feeling that I know won't go away, because I know my heart.


"If I lived for a million years, with illnesses coming and going, tragedy and pain, it would not matter. As long as I lived that million years, with you."

Trapped in hell with a beautiful illusion...

All I can say at this very moment, is...

Fighting Anna is not easy at all.

Consuming me like an unstoppable black hole, you,...have become my life

I find myself saying this a lot, but I really am sorry for the lack of updates. It's just, when I have stuff to write about, it's usually never good, and I have so much to say...it's just annoying. But I promise, I'll try and update you guys more often. Really.

Anyway, today I thought I'd write about anorexia. My mum is convinced I don't have it. Even though she had thought I did before, she says she doesn't now. Well, I agreed. But have now found my mind changing to disagreement. Why? Because I decided to really find out, and research it this morning. I looked at symptoms, signs, all of that. And guess what? I've got every bit of them. There was even something on the list that was so shocking, but explained so fucking much. I mean, god.

Okay, first, the shocking thing I found on the list that explains so much. I circled it on the list below:


I had no way of understanding my wish to cook for people all the time - find nice recipes and make them. Feed people. Look through cooking magazines/visit cooking sites. This explains so much, and I think it's so weird how it's tied to anorexia. How, it seems like, everything I do now, is tied to anorexia. I have every symptom/sign on that list. Which has now forced me to believe I am anorexic. I didn't think so before reading these, but now...I mean, if I wasn't anorexic, I wouldn't have all the symptoms.

I am eating three meals, but they are small. I can control my breakfast and lunch, so I try to eat as little as possible because I have no idea how much food I'll have to eat at night. I stay hungry - which to me, is fantastic. There have only been two nights that I ate so much I wasn't hungry anymore. And I was miserable. I cried, my stomach hurt...it was a feeling I never want again.

I am also still over-exercising. I look in the mirror so many times a day, that I can't even count anymore, and you know what I always see? Fat. Just fat. All the time. I'm never thin enough, I always see fat, and ugly. You can see my ribs, chest bones, collar bones, hip bones - you can feel all them, and you can feel my bum bone if I sit on your lap. I get told I look skeletal, and anorexic, and terrible, and too thin...yet all I see is fat. And how I'd look so much better if I ate a little less. But not being in control of dinner completely hinges that. So I simply do as much as I can before dinner time. Then I exercise dinner off afterwards. It's the only way I'll feel satisfied enough. Last night I went to bed hungry, and happy. I was ecstatic. I lay in bed at night and stroke my hip bones, feel my chest bones...I'm so warped. I know. But I just...I don't know.

All day today I've been having flash backs from when I was like 11, and how terrified I was of becoming anorexic then...and how that, one time, I looked in the mirror, and saw a morbidly obese me staring back.And then I cried. And also how I was so terrified, that I couldn't eat for a few days. I had practically stopped eating because I was so worried I'd become anorexic, that I felt sick, and couldn't eat! God. I have literally struggled with my weight and appearance ever since I was like, 9 years old. It just didn't get to this point until 14...which, thank god it didn't start any sooner.

Then I think about how disappointed my dad would be in me right now...every time I exercise, every time I feel that burn in my chest, a sign I can't take what I am doing, yet I still keep on going...I know he'd have had a fit seeing me looking like this if he was still here. He thought I was too thin before he died, and I was eating normally then. So imagine what he'd say now...he'd get pissed off, and probably blame my mum - which this is certainly not her fault.

I don't know, it's all just so hard. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm very happy at the moment, really, I am. It's just...tiring sometimes, ya know? It consumes my thoughts, my body, my day...anorexia has taken over me, and I love it. I allow it. I welcome it. It makes me happy to go to bed hungry, and to eat, then walk away knowing I'm still hungry. It also makes me happy to exercise so hard that I end up shaking afterwards, then knowing I'm just going to do more later. It fills me with joy to feel that burn in my legs when I walk up the stairs - that burn that makes me feel as if I will collapse right then and there. It lets me know that I am doing things right. Well, right in my distorted view of what's right. Others' would say it's sick, and wrong. I started worrying when I couldn't feel that burn anymore though. When I wasn't as in pain as I used to be when working out hard.

Ugh, I don't know. I'm so happy, but there is no doubt about it. No denying it. No covering it up anymore, because people can see me. I am anorexic, and it is my life. It has consumed me, and I'm happy about that. That sounds so wrong, but god it feels so right.

Weary hands put down the razor, and wipe your cheeks of tragic tears...

......

My life lately, has been full of: tears, cuts, screaming, yelling, shouting, over-exercising, lack of eating, counseling, hurt, confusion, annoyance, exhaustion, and fed-upness(yes I know it isn't a word, but I am making it one now).

But to put it all in one word...insane. Literally, insane.

Searching for something in an empty forest, with a heart in pain, and a mind so scarred. Nothing makes sense anymore...

Tonight....no, today, has been terrible.

Right when I thought I was getting healthy, and wanting to be healthy, and fit...my "disorder", or whatever this is, says "Nope, fuck it. You're staying like you are, and no wait, actually, you're going to get worse. Yeah, mmhm. And DIE eventually." Yeah...

Ugh, I just don't know what to do. I was obviously not happy at 108, and now at 103, I'm happier...but I still want to be at a lower weight. It's never going to stop. Because I'd rather not eat enough, and lose weight, than start eating again and MAYBE get fit. I don't know if I could get abs, and look awesome. And that's what terrifies me so much about eating again. Well, one of the reasons.

And it's like, when I look in the mirror...I can see my hip bones, chest bones, ribs, the bones in my arms and legs...but somehow that's not good enough for me. Why? Hell if I know. I just don't get this. I don't get me. The hunger. The feeling I get when I go hungry is amazing. I feel energized and incredible. Like I can do anything, like I weigh nothing, and I can just jump around and float. It's something that even words couldn't do justice in describing. And it scares me. Because I love it so much.

For the first time in my life, I feel little. When I was walking Tace around the neighbourhood - running with her as well, I felt tiny. Like Tace was kind of massive compared to me, and it felt good. I love it. I felt energized, and like I could do anything. I just felt wonderful.

But I hurt. I hurt when I eat in two different ways, and I hurt when I don't eat. Because I know when I don't eat, I hurt the ones I love, but when I do eat, I hurt myself in a way that absolutely tears me apart. But I know my loved ones are more important...so why do I keep this up? I just don't understand this, and I don't understand me. It all makes no sense.

I can tell everyone around me loves me, and hurts for me. Especially my mum. I didn't know how hard on her this all was, until tonight. And I really feel bad for doing this. To her, and to others...but I just don't know how to get out of this mindset. It's terrifying and confusing. And I hate it.

I just don't know. I simply don't know. And I don't understand. I'm so lost - completely and utterly lost. I don't know who I am, what I'm doing, why I'm doing it...I just do not understand. It all just does not compute. It's not logical, nor rational. It's insanity, and completely irrational. I believe I am quite intelligent at times - so why am I doing this? If I'm so goddamn intelligent, then why the fuck am I doing this to me, and to the ones around me?...Well, that's the question. The question that so makes me wonder. Keeps me awake, and keeps me analyzing, and pondering. Why...why do I do the things I do, if I know they are simply not logical, nor rational, and most certainly not healthy.

The thing I need to do now, is just take time to really think about all this, and why I am doing it. Because right now I am so lost.

Mend my heart back to a whole, and take away the pain so hidden underneath my dying soul...

Sorry for the lack of updates...it's just, anything I write right now will be kind of depressing. Well, depressing, and not worth reading in my opinion. But of course, that's just me.

But anyway, I guess I'll just give an update on my problems...

The weight thing is...well it's going all right I guess. I'm trying to eat more - well, no, not really trying, I'm giving in. It's hard work. Starving myself, and over working...and it's so fucking hard to be around all the wonderful food my mum cooks, and not eat it. It's the most difficult thing ever. It's why I do better with my "basically starvation" thing in the week. The kids aren't home, so it's not an eating fest. Which I like. And also I feel more motivated in the week. I'm not sure why, but I do.

And now I've developed a cold. I've got a sore throat, I'm exhausted, and I just generally don't feel all that well. I'm usually not fussed by colds, but this is different. I think my body is kind of freaking out. I danced today, and I've moved a round a lot - and by the time it was like 9pm, I was sitting on the sofa hoping I wasn't going to have to go to the emergency room or something. I was extremely exhausted(likely from all the moving about and really not eating as much as I should, I guess), and because of this cold, and also I react strangely to pain killers and such. I don't know why. But the effects are worse this time.

Even typing this out is taking a little too much effort. I really just think my body doesn't know what to do. I'm still not eating until I get full, which in my opinion is great, and I'm also still over working myself just a bit. But I thought my body was getting used to it, as I haven't been this exhausted since the first few days of my new "diet". But god...I'm really struggling right now. Breathing is even tough to do at the moment. It's not fun.

And as for the cutting...I haven't done that in a while, and was actually talked out of doing it last night by a very important friend of mine...he just cares for me so much, and, I can tell he really hates me doing this to myself - as well as the weight thing. He said every time he sees a photograph that shows my scars, he immediately gets sad. And he told me last night that he couldn't even explain how much it hurts him to see them. Which really woke me up...I was going to cut last night, but after all that, and then some more...there was just no way I was going to hurt him like that.

And my weight issues effect him too. He really wants me to put on a bit, and get healthy. And he also really really wants me to stop weighing myself every day. Which I want to too. But it's become kind of like...a compulsion. And I'm already OCD, so that's no good. And if I eat a little more than I think I should I immediately head for the scale. Which isn't good because I know my weight naturally fluctuates throughout the day after eating and such. And when I go to the scale I always end up feeling super depressed, and determined to starve the next day. Which has failed lately, what with all the food around.

I don't know...I'm just ready to stop stressing, and stop worrying about gaining, and stop thinking that I always need to be thinner. I'm at 104 now and usually pretty damn happy and confident with my new look...and then I see a photo or something, or a model...and it depresses me. I always think "God, how does she have such perfect boobs, and how is she so tiny?..." It's seriously depressing. Right when I think I'm happy with myself, I see a girl I think I should look like. It's horrid.

And I still want to be at 102. But that's not possible if I keep eating. Grrr, I just want to be normal, and not worry anymore. Seriously, that would be lovely.

But anyhow...that's been me, and my life lately. And it's completely depressing, and for that I am sorry to all the people that actually read this crap. I feel like I should be getting comments saying "Cheer up emo kid."

So teach me how to love myself, and see the beauty, and love the health...guide me on the path of life

I thought I might as well write about problem two now...

Okay, so we've established that I have a weight problem, and eating issues...or, not eating issues. But that's not the only problem I have.

I've been cutting for about 4 months or so now, and I don't know how to stop that. I will say that I've cut less lately, but that's still not stopping. Which I'm trying to do. My arms, and even legs are kind of covered in scars/marks from where I've cut. And they're very noticeable...which it then gets stressful trying to hide them from people that don't know I do it.

But anyway. So yeah, I'm a cutter. And yesterday or the day before my mum made an excellent point. We're going to the beach next month, and I'll be in a swim suit...I really don't want to draw attention to myself more than I already will. So either I stop cutting before then(which is highly unlikely), or I cut back once time gets closer(most likely). I don't mind the scars at all...but after fresh cuts, it looks bad. Well, it draws attention. I personally think my cuts look okay, but that's me. Obviously. To others...well they don't know what to think when seeing them, so.

But yes, I've got two fairly major problems that I need to take care of. The weight thing shall be first, since it can get really dangerous. My cutting isn't going to get any worse than it already is, and I know that for sure. So I need to focus on my...whatever this is, first.

And also...I'm now down to 105. So. Yes, I need to work on this weight thing first most definitely.