14 day juice fast! Starting tomorrow. Meditation and yoga included! Starve on, sexy bitches!!

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1. Cravings go away
2. Need to visualize my stomach shrinking. My body getting rid of toxins. Water is my best friend.
3. Smoke a cigg after 7. No more eating.
4. Be a loner. Ana is your only best friend
5. You are beautiful. Tall. And you are going to be THIN
6. Realize: 4 fucking years! 4 fucking years! Starve now! You won't regret it later.
7. No more binging and purging. Just starve, dammit.
8.Be perfect and disciplined. Do beautiful things.

Whenever the fat bitch tells me to "take another bite" I'm going to associate it with that disgusting repulsive ex bf of mine. Julie, another fat ugly ex best friend bitch wanted me to eat.. To be as humongous as her. Must. Starve. Must. Reach. Perfection.

Ta-ta bitches.

I'm going to sleep everytime I need food.

So far what I've accomplished:
1. Eating slowly (need to improve)
2. Not eating after my stomach tells me I'm full. Stuffed.
3. Destroying the link in my brain that connects pleasure and food. Food does not pleasure me.
4. Being repulsed by food. Although, I still eat.
5. Saying NO. It feels so damn good each time.
6. Training my body to crave liquids instead of food. It just takes time for your mind and body to get used to habits. Make good things a habit!

Starve on, bitches.

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..Making me eat. Telling me to binge. Fuck.
It's been a while since I have logged on, or posted to this journal. I have a million other journals (all unfinished) with scattered thoughts and obsessions. There's always a glimmer, a spurt of hope, the disinegrating hope of losing weight. Instead, I've spiraled into a eating disorder which consumed 4 years of my life... And I have nothing to show for. I'm still fat. FAT.
I can't stop. There's moments which I feel like I need to give up. 2 years have passed. 2 years of drug abuse, drinking, crying, and contemplating my path in life. I used to be..so... Motivated.
I did it. Once. It's now a faded memory. I was so thin, so light, so beautiful.
I want to start over again.

I broke my fibula. I'm in a damn cast. For 3 more weeks. I can't move, I can't do shit but eat sleep and think. My mind. My mind won't stop racing with these thoughts. These voices in my head telling me to fucking binge. It's the demon, I now call it. It's not my friend althought it's nestled beneath the thoughts in my brain.
I get my cast off the 16th of November. I want to do it. I'm going to do it. I've done 3 (no 2, I lied) succesful fasts. 16 days left. I'm going to liquid fast for as long as I can. Restrict my calories. I'm going to log on and teach my feelings and thoughts. I'm guessing a journal would help me realize what a failure I've been. Starve on, ladies.

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