I was late for work yesterday, fortunately only by a few minutes. I didn’t want to go. I fought with myself over it. I wasted a good fifteen minutes trying to figure out what I should do. I was set for destruction right from the start of the morning, and found myself frantically scrubbing the dried blood off in the shower. I knew I was going to be late, and my mother kept coming in my room to see if I was ready. I was really short with her, trying not to yell. I was walking out the door, and realized I’d forgotten my watch. I ran back to go search for it, and there were my pills sitting on my dresser. I took three again, and felt the consequences for the rest of the day.

I was so tired and out of it, that I was going to leave early. Naturally no one was scheduled for anything, and I spent most of the day with one other worker making the food, assembling the food, and doing fried products at the most busy time of day. Don’t you love how that shit works out? I went to the freezer a couple of times and just leaned against the boxes. I found a box cutter over by the microwave and was flirting with the idea of taking it to the restroom with me on my next break. I still don’t know why I didn’t. I guess because I have a knife already. It’s familiar, it’s mine.  

I made it all the way through. Don’t know how I did, closing my eyes every few seconds as I was doing things. I ate a bunch of candy from the store again, even had an energy drink. Nothing helped. To top it off I was in a terrible mood and I was sick the entire time. I thought for certain I was going to vomit sooner or later.

I have to go to work again today. I don’t want to, but it has to be done.  I’ve made no real effort to eat better, but I seem to have stopped gaining excessively, which is nice. I’m still almost never hungry. I just eat because I am an idiot and clearly can’t cope with the most basic of things, like life. Yesterday, I was sitting in the breakroom eating a candy bar I didn’t want (I was hoping the sugar would wake me up), and this woman from the front counter walks by and says, “That’s really fattening,” then walks away. What the fuck? We’ve never been introduced, I don’t even know her. It just seems like a ridiculous thing to say to somebody. It’s a candy bar, no fucking shit it’s not good for you, and not to mention she must not know what ‘fattening’ is given her own body’s state. I was just feeling like crap, and that didn’t help. The women all say different things to me here and there about how thin I am and all of that, and I kind of want to say something horrible in response. Because I don’t feel that way. I feel absolutely vile right now, and won’t even go to the store without wearing a huge jacket to cover myself up with. I won’t even weigh myself. The only reason I know I’m not huge is because my uniform pants still fit. They have always been tighter at my waist, even when I was at my lowest weight, and now they still close, but they look like they’re a little small. On the days where they feel too tight, the next day I do my best to not scarf down everything, then they fit better again the day after.

I don’t want to be bothered with anything, it’s kind of getting sad. I know I need to go out and do things, regardless of how I feel. Tomorrow is my day off and I’m going to try to convince myself to go to town with my mother while she does the shopping. I know I can’t keep staying home like this, only sleeping and avoiding everyone. It’s not good for me to cater even more to my loner inclinations. Last time my godfather was here, I saw him twice, and I didn’t even feel up to going to dinner when they all went. I think the only reason I did was out of a sense of duty. I didn’t really enjoy myself, and found that I was having trouble eating in front of everyone. I’ve even been taking my meals alone in my room, not going to the kitchen table (I eat there by myself too, but it means my parents are in the adjacent living room) since I am so embarrassed by my own behavior lately. I want to stop, but I feel like I can’t. There’s just no reason to stop when I don’t care enough about it. Yes, I feel horrible and fat, but no one sees me anyway, and I don’t have to leave my house if I don’t feel like it. This is how I keep rationalizing things, even though I know that my eating, my lack of exercise lately, and several other factors all have a lot to do with my feeling like shit over all.

I’m just lazy and don’t want to do anything that takes effort. I do my nine hours at work, then I come home and sleep. Apparently, that is my life.