Unlucky 13

I have no idea why I'm even writing this post. Today was terrible. I didn't get to sleep until 8am and when I woke, at 2, I weighed 162.2 eleven times, then 161.4 once, then 161.8 twice. Then I practically slammed out of the bathroom and promptly devoured a banana, 2 tbsp peanut butter, vegetable stir-fry, and almost a litre of purple grape juice.

The day started off shit. The frantic kitchen mini-binge, whilst more controlled than its previous counterparts, reminded me of my gap year. This whole week has reminded me of my gap year, and it's been horrible. I don't know what has happened to me. I took 40mg of Ritalin, glugged 12oz of water, and tried to forget about it. I then called Lina (I was still, comparatively, in an OK mood at this point - despite a. the bad reading, b. my skin having gotten worse, and c. having just voraciously consumed almost all of my intake out of panic) and chain-smoked until I felt like getting in a bath.

I totted it all up, roughly, and I think it came to around 800 calories. And that's being generous.

Tonight was worse. My mum came home, I started crying because I felt so awful, my mum shouted at me, and then things escalated from there. I ended up a snivelling, shaking wreck on my bed, frantically messaging Lina that I just need to get out of this place for a while. Then I booked a train ticket for tomorrow night. For an indefinite stay at university.

I feel sick with guilt. I haven't seen my friends in a week; I haven't been to the gym in a week; I haven't really gone outside for a week, or engaged with my family. I hate how much I'm hurting my mother. All she wants is for me to help out and stay generally sane when she gets home. I'm such a disappointment to everyone, and I can't stand it.