I’m seriously laying here crying because I ate too much and it’s too late now. And I can’t do anything about it. I’m so overwhelmed with the fact that I know I gained weight today and I’m just getting farther away from what I need. I can’t feel this full. I won’t.

I will always have a piece of my heart and mind that remembers you.
It will remember how you were sweet and nervous, how you kissed so passionately, with meaning, how you were thoughtful, how you made me feel so wanted, like someone could actually love me, like I wasn’t alone and I was attractive enough for someone to want me so much. But I look back and see it was fake, there were other girls, I wasn’t your girl and no matter how much I want or wanted that it could never happen.
You won’t understand how you made me feel so good. Not physically only. But emotionally. You made me smile and laugh. You lit everything up. Until everything went wrong and we fought. The countless times you said goodbye, expecting me to say the same. What if I had? Would you have texted me? Would you have tried to reverse your words? Why did you keep coming back? You were done so many times. Why did I keep going back? I know that. It was like abuse. I loved you and you just liked my body. You didn’t care. You treated me like shit half the time and I still loved you. I won’t ever be able to walk into my parents room without thinking of you. I won’t be able to drive my car without looking in the backseat with regret and hope. Hope that you’ll text me one day, that you’ll say, oh I’m sorry it was all a mistake. You’ll say, I love you, and I had to stop talking to you to ease the pain. I wish. You would never say that. You wouldn’t text me. And I know that you stopped thinking about me. But still every time my phone buzzes I pick it up with the false hope that I will see the broken heart picture. And an apology. I pick up my phone late at night when someone texts me because I wish it was you. I wish I could talk to you. I wish the last time I talked to you I’d have known it would be my last. I wish that morning I texted you saying good morning that youd have actually texted me back. At least. Tell me you don’t love me. Tell me you don’t want to talk to me anymore. Maybe then I won’t keep wishing and hoping that you’ll come back to me and tell me you loved me all along. I just wish that I could forget about how much I still love you and how much it hurts that you don’t give a shit about me anymore.
I wish you knew how much I will always love you.
You just don’t give a shit anymore.

Headache
Stomach empty
Cold
Tired
can’t eat
Achey
Nauseous
Depressed
Paranoid

Is this really worth it? Will I be happier in the end than I could be right now?

i hate my body i hate food i hate my thighs i hate my stomach i hate my ass i hate my face i hate skinny people i hate temptations i hate that i let myself get like this i hate that i have to work so hard i hate carbs i hate fat i hate my life

please. i know i can get to where i want to be

my boyfriend broke up with me. now i have no motivation to get thin. i wanted to look sexy for him