Never Is A Promise

I'm seriously hating life right now. My skin is too tight. Of course, it's my own fault for eating. What the hell is wrong with me? I just want things to go back to how they were. Coffee and celery and insomnia. Why did I have to get sick? WELL it doesn't matter now because I'm going back to that starting tomorrow no matter how I feel. Nothing is worse than feeling fat. Not even sleep deprivation and certainly not starvation. Come winter, I better be skinny. I want to be that girl piled in sweatshirts in the theater reading over a monologue, or practicing Beethoven in the concert hall, or conferring with my incredibly gorgeous English teacher. I HAVE to be that girl. I've been writing a few brief disturbing stories about the kind of girl I will be. I have made all the preparations. Now it's time to suck it up and actually follow through.
I think that's my biggest issue. I always expect it to be as easy as when I was modelling. Of COURSE it was easy then. I was tiny. I was beautiful. I was a goddamn model. It was my job to be skinny. But now...
Now I'm just pathetic.
That's about to change.
I'm making a vow. Right now. That I will be at my first goal weight by New Years Eve.
No options. No failure. I swear on my goddamn life.