Cara
Diary entry 7 Aug 7, 2015 590Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIa1ySSxTxj
So, this is kind of out of routine for me, you know…updating this diary so early in the day. I guess at this point it’s safe to say that this become an actual “diary”, which is what I have been writing next to the entry number for every entry, so far. But this was technically supposed to be a “food diary” which is not what this is turning out to be. Besides, I don’t think there are too many “food journals” out there that are written by people who write in notebooks just to have someone or something to talk to. I am now admitting to myself that this IS a diary. My diary. Ha, what a strange concept to grasp. I’m not sure if keeping a diary is something people actually do, it seems pretty retro, like a throwback to a bad eighties movie, or something. Either way- food journal or diary, this is for me and only me. Shit… I’ve gotten off topic. I can’t seem to keep my focus on much of anything today. I’m only half-way through the school day, and all I want to do is go to sleep. My energy feels nonexistent. I feel completely drained. It’s been a reasonably smooth day, all things considering. I skipped breakfast this morning, and settled for a cherry pop from the vending machine in the lunchroom. I read the label on the pop bottle and was shocked on its nutritional contents! There were 270 calories in the pop I had just drank! I felt so disgusting. I had to get it out of me, and I did. I know I said that I would only purge after meals, but this felt different. I missed half of my first class slouched over a toilet in the bathroom, I was trying to get this poison out of me. It feels like poison…Ally had never mentioned this. She never told me that things that I enjoy would begin to feel like poison. Not to worry though…ha…I feel like I’ve purged my stomach dry. I held my finger in my throat in my throat until my heaving dried up. Ally also never told me that once everything in your stomach is gone, the only thing left to heave is this yellowish green stuff that burns on its way out. I think it might be my stomach acid. I tastes like acid. It seems that Ally failed to mention several things about all of this. She didn’t come to school today. I had texted her after I had already drank that soda pop, I wanted to know what she would do if she were in my position. After I had sent the text it dawned on me that she hadn’t been around all morning. She never answered. It’s been almost an hour since then, I should try texting her again after this class. I’m actually starting to get a little concerned.
Cara: Hey! Where r u? Y didnt u come 2 school 2day?
Ally: Started my period. Feel a migraine creeping. Just couldn’t deal with school shit today.
Cara: Wish u were here 2day :(
Ally: y? did I miss a school shooting?
Cara: wtf! omg! I cant believe u just said that! SO messed up! no...just no lol I just had some questions about the thing you taught me...
Ally
Journal entry seven Aug 7, 2015
I just know that I am moments away from having a full-blown migraine headache. It hurts to look at anything that has light, or requires concentration. Writing seems to be bearable at the moment, so I’ll just stick to it for now. I’ve been texting Cara for the last ten minutes or so, and looking at my cellphone’s screen is murdering me. She’ll have to wait. She’s in class anyways, she should be focused on that- not wondering about what the fuck I’m doing. Ugh! This morning was shitty, it’s bumming me out now just thinking about it. I’d had a nightmare that I've had before, this nightmare is actually starting to reoccur quite often. It upset me pretty bad, so I decided to stay home. The nightmare was just so vivid! The only way I could get it off my mind was to cut…so I did. I had barely gotten through the morning and into the noon hour when my phone began to blow up with text messages. My dad with his typical bullshit, of course. Then Cara starts texting my phone around lunch time, trying to find me. I told her I was on my period, which was kind of -but not really- true. Not really true, because (plot twist!) I’m not actually on my period, and kind of true because while I wasn’t actually on my period this morning either "technically", I did start the day bleeding as if I was on the rag. Which now that I think about it- I guess my particular bleeding doesn’t even come close to being the same thing as menstrual bleeding, in comparison. Because, unless I’ve just been doing it all wrong for the past three years- or so, a period is a vagina thing…Vagina blood…hold that thought. Just got another text…
Cara: Hello? U there? Wut was that bs about a school shooting? Is it even safe to joke about that over text?
Ally continues-
It’s just Cara being paranoid, once again missing the humor in something I said jokingly. Sometimes I wonder why I ever texted her in the first place. If only we could’ve not run into each other at A New Hope- I wouldn’t be sitting here dealing with this clingy, over-emotional wreck. I mean, the girl’s kind of lame. I wonder if I can loosen her up at all. If I could just get here to smoke some weed, I’m sure she would chill out just enough to be decent company. Hell, if I could get her high, she’d probably even be fun! Yes! This will be today’s goal! I will force Cara into getting loose with me. I want to see what’s she’s like when she lets her hair down. I’ll continue this entry afterwards.
Ally: Lol chill girl. It was a fuckin joke. Wut r u doin l8r? like after school
Cara: just ridin the bus home and nuthin probably y?
Ally: I’ll pick u up after school today. Look 4 me in a black honda civic
Cara: really? K cool! Should be able 2 find u easily. I always pictured u drivin a black car lol
Ally: lol wut can I say? I like the color of my car to match the color of my soul haha ;)
Cara: if u say so lol ill c u around 3:30 then?
Ally: kk c ya then.. better not stand me up betch! I will find u!
Cara: wut will we be doin exactly?
Ally: idk..i kinda wanted to go chill at my favorite spot. Its just so damn nice outside today. Unless u have any better ideas
Cara: no that sounds fun. I really need 2 get out of my house for a day. My dad has been upsetting me lately.
Ally: well I guess it all works out then, bc theres nothing upsetting about my favorite chill spot...relatively speaking :P
Cara: umm where exactly is this chill spot? Ur not taking me somewhere weird r u? its not like a funeral home or something?
Ally: lol...nahh. c ya at 3:30
Cara: then where is it? Its not like dangerous is it???
Cara: hello...u ther?
Ally continues-
It’s 2:30 now. I have to leave soon to get to the school to pick up Cara. The migraine has subsided for the most part. I stole a Xanax and a pain killer from my mother’s personal pharmacy that she keeps stashed in her mirror-cabinet combo, above her bathroom sink. The pain killer had some crazy name, I suppose it is just a generic for something good. I assume this because it worked. The Xanax is doing its job as well. I’m feeling pretty good. I’ve been hung up on what I wrote earlier in this entry. The part I wrote when I was sarcastically comparing the bleeding cut I’d made on myself- to being on my period. I’ve been sinking deeper into that for some reason. The place on my body that bled this morning should never be confused with the vagina region. The thought of such an ill-placed lady part kind of freaks me out- like some kind of fucked up, morbid Picasso painting of a rape victim, whose body parts are in all the wrong places. Then again, maybe Picasso would be on to something. I pity the poor she-creature who got pregnant after letting her boyfriend have sex with the female reproductive organs located on her upper arm. I’m sure she won’t appreciate the baby that is growing near her shoulder. The momma-to-be’s upper arm/baby bump would probably look like a giant tumor that met up with some nasty Elephantiasis…out loud I say “to each their own”, in my heart I say “fuck Picasso”. There I go with the nonsense again! In case anyone reads this one day and fails to catch it, I was bleeding from my upper arm all morning because I had cut too far into it with a box cutter that I’d found. There was a lot of blood. Too much flow for any weird shoulder tampon to plug up, no matter what kind of absorbency it may have. So I settled for an entire first aid kit’s stock of gauze I’d found in the garage, and a day off from school. I really hope that my self-medicating is what drove me to write this down. Dismissing it for now, I have to leave. I want to continue this entry later. Writing about my thoughts today has really helped me digest some things I would usually just keep to myself. I’m taking this journal with me when I leave to pick up Cara, in case another urge to add to this entry hits me. At the moment I am content with my thoughts. I have just enough time to quickly shower, find something to wear and text Cara to tell her I’m on my way. To be continued.
Ally: hey u! I’m on the way. I’ll be out n front of the school n the student pick-up zone. Please don’t take forever. I don’t want 2 b there any longer than I have 2 b.
Cara: That works 4 me, cuz I don’t wanna b here any longer than I have 2 be either. Ill sprint that way as soon as the bell rings.
Ally: kk. Leaving my house now, actually. C u soon.
Cara: c u there
Ally continues-
Finally! I haven’t gotten the chance to update this entry until now. It’s 4:00 P.M. Cara and I have been sitting at the old cemetery down the street from the school for almost half hour now. This is my favorite place to go when I skip class to get high. I’m always alone when I come here. Cara is the first person that I’ve ever brought here. Surprisingly, she agreed to smoke weed with me without hardly any pressure on my end. Since picking her up, she has not stopped talking about her new love for throwing up and asking really dumb questions about it. I’ve just silently been going crazy- counting the seconds until we got to the cemetery, until we found a spot to sit, until I finally got the joint rolled and lit, until now. I can finally write down what is weighing on me for the past hour. Cara got up and walked off with the joint to go look at the old headstones and grave markers. I don’t even mind at this point, the silence is beautiful. The strangest series of events has happened over the course of an hour. After leaving my house to pick up Cara from school I experienced a feeling that I haven’t felt since my struggle with anorexia. Literally out of nowhere got a sudden urge to chew and spit something fatty and greasy. During my battle with anorexia and bulimia, chew and spit was one of my favorite eating disorder rituals- next to purging. So while on the way to pick up Cara, I stopped at the first fast food restaurant that I saw. It was some burger and fries joint called Button Poppers. I approached the drive threw and started yelling into the speaker box that was shaped like a pair of unbuttoned pants. The order I’d placed came out something like “I’ll take the biggest bacon cheeseburger you guys make!” and I’m not positive, but I am pretty sure the speaker replied “That would be the Heartstopper! If you want to add chili and mayonnaise, then you want the Clogged Artery!” I ordered both. When I drove up to the window, it opened. Handing me my food was a girl I remembered vaguely from childhood. I want to say church and Sunday school is where I knew her from. She had been a little more than just overweight then, but now I could hardly recognize her. She looked to carry no more than ten more pounds on her weight than I had carried at my skinniest. She recognized me and smiled. I gawked at how different she looked then I felt bad because she responded to my gawking by telling me how she’d gotten so skinny. Apparently she had just got out of a long relationship with a Methamphetamine dealer, who kept her so strung out she wouldn’t eat for weeks. I was beginning to hold up line and my Heartstopper and Clogged Artery were calling my name. I cut the conversation short and drove towards the school. I had both burgers completely chewed up and spit out before I reached the high school. I don’t know what all of this meant, but it's giving me flashbacks that I don't want. I really hope I am not falling back into any old rituals I had when my eating disorder was active. A relapse would be devastating. I can’t be like that again. I wouldn’t survive it. Cara is walking back towards me now. I’m just going to roll up the rest of my weed and smoke it all with her. I’ll try and conclude this entry later. To be continued.
Cara
Diary entry eight Aug 7, 2015
Oh my gosh…I’m still really high! It’s 8:00 P.M. and I have just got home. I convinced Ally to drop me off two streets away from my street. I told her I needed the walk to come down a little from the weed high. That would totally be a legitimate excuse, but it’s not completely true. To be completely honest, I’m just embarrassed about where I live. Ally lives in a huge house on the rich side of town. Her parents buy her brand new…everything! Her car is so cool, and she treats it like crap. She has trash all over the inside of it, and complains that it isn’t what she’d originally hoped to be driving. She just wouldn’t understand if she saw how I have to live. God forbid she ever meet my dad- that would be a disaster. I think I’ve successfully dodged two situations here. I’ve avoided a judgmental Ally making me feel ashamed for living in a run down trailer, located in the trailer park most notorious for drug and crime in the entire county- and I’ve also avoided my dad. It’s seems he started drinking early today. He was passed out drunk on the couch when I snuck in. It’s been a pretty smooth day all around, I’d say. I’ve never seen Ally so happy. Well, if it wasn’t happy I was seeing from her, it was something closer to happy than I’d ever seen her act. She’s gets so goofy when she smokes weed. I can’t wait for tomorrow, I hope it all goes just as well. I think this is what hope feels like. I hope Ally feels the same. I hope she had the kind of day that called for two diary entries as well. Well, I’m dozing off as I write this, so I’m just going to call it a night. Until next time <3
Ally continues-
Oh shit! What’ve you been up to journal? Me, you ask? Not too much, man. Just feeling the need to write something to conclude this entry- which has to be the longest journal entry in history. For some reason my words are just coming out on the paper like I’m talking to a long lost friend, but don’t worry…you don’t have to respond. Actually, I’d prefer it if you didn’t. That would be fucking spooky. I’m just going to try and switch you back journal mode, because I would be mortified if anyone were to ever glance over my shoulder and find that I’m writing as if I am just verbally conversing with my notebook. I wouldn’t know how to handle that situation, honestly. Maybe I’d just play off sarcastically like “Yeah! ... We’re bff’s! Don’t judge.” Then I’d just look down at the paper like “what up dude?” But no, sorry. I shan’t hit that particular rock bottom at this time, if I can help it. Enough of that nonsense! I apologize for the half-baked sounding journal entry so far. I’m still just really stoned from smoking my last three joints with Cara earlier, and I’m feeling good right now. My entire world started upside down this morning and by 4 P.M. everything was right side up again and in the clouds. Even Cara of all people, calmed down and unwound a lot. I didn’t hear her make one worrisome comment, or ask a single unnecessary question after she started hitting the first joint. It’s like all her worry and paranoia had just evaporated and drifted off into the air with the marijuana smoke. Turns out she does have a sense of humor after all. She’d made up some ridiculous theory about how dating a dead body buried in a graveyard could have just as many pros as cons. I laughed so hard that I cried! She just continued saying shit like “No, seriously! You know he would never cheat on you with anyone else because he never leaves his house- but the kicker to that is you’d always have to come to his house to hang out.” Or things like “He would never annoy you with always talking about sports or guy stuff, but the downside to that is he would just never say anything! The jerk wouldn’t even call, like ever!” I laughed so hard I fell over on top of a grave! I was having so much fun. I began to pound my fist on the grave I fell on, while screaming “Wake up! Prove this crazy bitch wrong! You would sooo call me, right!?” If it had not started to get dark, we wouldn’t have left. Cara had apparently gotten so high that she asked me to drop her off a couple streets over from her house, so that she could try and walk it off some. I’m sure she’s alright. I’m sure she got home, walked through the door and realized that she had a bad case of the munchies. She probably tore through the kitchen eating every snack food she could find. After that, she probably went into her room and collapsed on to her bed where she passed out asleep. Never once thinking about throwing up. No regrets. Goodnight.
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