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2012-12-15 23:08:55 (UTC)


December 15, 2012 Saturday 11:09 PM

"What you know" by Two Door Cinema Club

[By not updating for a long time, I meant like three days, by the way. I still won't be updating as often, for reasons I will not say. Maybe once or twice a week. Night.]

I feel so empty, but I am so full. Today is day three of my secret "diet" but I ate too much tonight... Oh, well. I can't let myself do something bad.

I'll just have to try again.

I've been comforting Aaron for a couple hours, I hate that she feels alone

because I feel it too. I am alone. I tried to make plans tonight -- No one was available. I knew they would go out of there way to see me if they really knew why I wanted to be with a person...

But I didn't tell them. I feel just as alone as before, only this time, my secrets are locked up in my little head. I don't want to talk about what happened. It is kind of foggy in my head, anyhow.

After the fact, Aaron and Lily tried asking me if I was okay, and I flat out lied to them saying I had no idea what they were talking about.

I think Lily believed me more than Aaron did. After all, Aaron was the one who was gripping my arm, the one witnessing me take myself apart and put me back together, like a puzzle of a gremlin, shoving mismatched pieces together, trying and failing for the hope that the picture will change and it will become a beautiful princess.

The thing is, I am not helping.

The way I help to be silent. I've been writing in my new handheld diary, dubbed Athena. It has an embroidered owl on the front.

I almost wonder if Gillian reads this. Then I remind myself; I asked her, she said she did not.

A pity. I could really use a friend. But then again, would I accept her words if she knew, anyway? The truth is I would not.

I am just too damn stubborn.

I won't get better. If anything, I will aquire (I spelled that wrong D: ) more disorders. Everyone has a disorder, though, right? You can diagnose any quirk, huh? Possibly.

Yeah, I'm doing a damn good job of making myself sicker, in different ways, in permanent ways that are ripping me apart like I'm food for an angry pack of wolves.

I actually quite admire wolves, but that is besides the point.

The point is, in such a free country or whatever, I really have no freedom and no choice. I HAVE to do this, I know no other way to cope.

And I doubt a silly therapist can help me.

This is built up pressure. I am a disaster everyone's waiting for, but little do they know, I have already been happening.