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i wish you well..i really do
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[22 May 2005|07:08pm] |
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this shit is locked up.
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[18 May 2005|02:27pm] |
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Today was shitty.
I still don't feel good which sucks liek @!#$&!#@$*@ that much.
not going to school tommorrow because i dont feel good.i'm going to miss the concert...again. score.
I'm so depressed about my haircut. itmakesmewanttocry.
There is so much that i hate about miller place...everything from the preppiness, to my "friends".
Nothing here is real. Noone here is real. everything is fake and retarted. and it should all die.
Next year i'm so excited. hopefully going back to riverhead. i hate it here. so much.
kbye.
( Says the miracle's Woman )
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[12 May 2005|06:27pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 QUEER. |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Frankee - Fuck you right back =P |
] |
i need to get a job over the summer.
The only money i get/have is from doing my dads laundry, which i get paid a lot for. He gives me like 40$ to do the laundry. so i'm like, chill yo.
But i have to get a serious job besides babysitting every now and then..
...any ideas?
I was thinking hopefully i could try and get an application for a salon or something...but i'm only going to be 15 this summer.
which blows. mucho. but whatever.
That'd also be cool if i could like work at the gym, then get like...a discount? =] i don't think i'm old enough though "/.. idk i'll ask around and stuff.
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[04 May 2005|03:12pm] |
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mood |
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 pissedOFF. |
] |
I will be thin.
Even if it kills me.
( Ana's pep talk. )
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[14 Apr 2005|06:10pm] |
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JOIN MUCH?!!? yeah.
LAWL good idea !!!!!!!1111
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[28 Mar 2005|07:13pm] |
Allow me to introduce myself. My name, or as I am called by so called "doctors", is Anorexia. Anorexia Nervosa is my full name, but you may call me Ana. Hopefully we can become great partners. In the coming time, I will invest a lot of time in you, and I expect the same from you. In the past you have heard all of your teachers and parents talk about you. You are "so mature", "intelligent", "14 going on 45", and you possess "so much potential". Where has that gotten you, may I ask? Absolutely no where! You are not perfect, you do not try hard enough. Further more, you waste your time on thinking and talking with friends and drawing! Such acts of indulgence shall not be allowed in the future. Your friends do not understand you. They are not truthful. In the past, when the insecurity has quietly gnawed away at your mind, and you asked them, "Do I look....fat?" and they answered "Oh no, of course not" you knew that they were lying! Only I tell the truth. Your parents, let's not even go there! You know that they love you, and care for you, but part of that is just that they are your parents and are obligated to do so. I shall tell you a secret now: deep down inside themselves, they are disappointed with you. Their daughter, the one with so much potential, has turned into a fat, lazy, and undeserving girl.
But I am about to change all that.
I expect a lot from you. You are not allowed to eat much. It will start slowly: decreasing of fat intake, reading the nutrition labels, cutting out junk food, fried food, etc. For a while, the exercise will be simple: some running, perhaps some crunches and some situps. Nothing too serious. Perhaps drop a few pounds, take a little off of that fat tub of a stomach. But it won't be long before I tell you that it isn't good enough. I will expect you to drop your calorie intake and up your exercise. I will push you to the limit. You must take it because you cannot defy me! I am beginning to embed myself into you. Pretty soon, I am with you always. I am there when you wake up in the morning and run to the scale. The numbers become both friend and enemy, and the frenzied thoughts pray for them to be lower than yesterday, last night, etc. You look into the mirror with dismay. You prod and poke at the fat that is there, and smile when you come across bone. I am there when you figure out the plan for the day: 400 calories, 2 hours exercise. I am the one figuring this out, because by now my thoughts and your thoughts are blurred together as one.
I follow you throughout the day. In school, when your mind wanders, I give you something to think about. Recount the calories for the day. It's too much. I fill your mind with thoughts of food, weight, calories, and things that are safe to think about. Because now, I am already inside of you. I am in your head, your heart, and your soul. The hunger pains you pretend not to feel is me, inside of you.
Pretty soon I am telling you not only what to do with food, but what to do ALL of the time. Smile and nod. Present yourself well. Suck in that fat stomach, dammit! God, you are such a fat cow!!! When mealtimes come around, I tell you what to do. I make a plate of lettuce seem like a feast fit for a king. Push the food around. Make it look like you've eaten something. No piece of anything... if you eat, all the control will be broken... do you WANT that? To revert back to the fat COW you once were? I force you to stare at magazine models. Those perfect skinned, white teethed, waifish models of perfection staring out at you from those glossy pages. I make you realize that you could never be them. You will always be fat and never will you be as beautiful as they are. When you look in the mirror, I will distort the image. I will show you obesity and hideousness. I will show you a sumo wrestler where in reality there is a starving child. But you must not know this, because if you knew the truth, you might start to eat again and our relationship would come crashing down.
Sometimes you will rebel. Hopefully not often though. You will recognise the small rebellious fiber left in your body and will venture down to the dark kitchen. The cupboard door will slowly open, creaking softly. Your eyes will move over the food that I have kept at a safe distance from you. You will find your hands reaching out, lethargically, like in a nightmare, through the darkness to the box of crackers. You shove them in, mechanically, not really tasting but simply relishing in the fact that you are going against me. You reach for another box, then another, then another. Your stomach will become bloated and grotesque, but you will not stop yet. And all the time I am screaming at you to stop, you fat cow, you really have no self control, you are going to get fat.
When it is over, you will cling to me again, ask me for advice because you really do not want to get fat. You broke a cardinal rule and ate, and now you want me back. I'll force you into the bathroom, onto your knees, staring into the void of the toilet bowl. Your fingers will be inserted into your throat, and, not without a great deal of pain, your food binge will come up. Over and over this is to be repeated, until you spit up blood and water and you know it is all gone. When you stand up, you will feel dizzy. Don't pass out. Stand up right now. You fat cow you deserve to be in pain!
Maybe the choice of getting rid of the guilt is different. Maybe I chose to make you take laxatives, where you sit on the toilet until the wee hours of the morning, feeling your insides cringe. Or perhaps I just make you hurt yourself, bang your head into the wall until you receive a throbbing headache. Cutting is also effective. I want you to see your blood, to see it fall down your arm, and in that split second you will realise you deserve whatever pain I give you. You are depressed, obsessed, in pain, hurting, reaching out but no one will listen? Who cares?! You are deserving; you brought this upon yourself.
Oh, is this harsh? Do you not want this to happen to you? Am I unfair? I do things that will help you. I make it possible for you to stop thinking of emotions that cause you stress. Thoughts of anger, sadness, desperation, and loneliness can cease because I take them away and fill your head with the methodic calorie counting. I take away your struggle to fit in with kids your age, the struggle of trying to please everyone as well. Because now, I am your only friend, and I am the only one you need to please.
I have a weak spot. But we must not tell anyone. If you decide to fight back, to reach out to someone and tell them about how I make you live, all hell will break lose. No one must find out, no one can crack this shell that I have covered you with. I have created you, this thin, perfect, achieving child. You are mine and mine alone. Without me, you are nothing. So do not fight back. When others comment, ignore them. Take it into stride, forget about them, forget about everyone that tries to take me away. I am your greatest asset, and I intend to keep it that way.
Sincerely,
Ana
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[18 Mar 2005|02:46pm] |
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[14 Mar 2005|10:13pm] |
Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it
Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
When he cried for him to do it
Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
becasue that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his little sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly
That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absoultly Nothing"
Beacuse thats what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
And a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen.
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[09 Mar 2005|05:04pm] |
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________SUPUGLY
JOIN.
BITCHFACE.
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[04 Mar 2005|12:19pm] |
So i fasted 19 hours..i'm so proud..
It was from 8:30 last night. till 3:00 today.
i lost some wieght..still not at my goal yet.
but i'm working hard for it.
My next fast will start Sunday night and
hopefully go all the way to Wensday.
i can't wait !! =]. and over the weekend
i have to eat because i'll be w.family
and if I don't eat, they will be suspicious.
so. i am just going to have to eat healthy.
which is no biggie.
**Thinking Thin :
Marisa.
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[27 Feb 2005|11:29pm] |
Your Porn Star Name is: Albino Kitty
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EXACTLY.
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[24 Feb 2005|07:57pm] |
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I FOUND THAT ONLINE.
WOW.
gag me.
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[17 Feb 2005|06:09pm] |
Samantha: marisa, im just saying you fucking do anything. you dont understand. like wow you have no idea marisa im getting all teary thinking about losing you. and thats not fucking cool. this is so jacked up if u ever do anything fucking like that i wnt be able to live with myself, i know that might sound selfish or w/e but idc i am being selfish knwoing that your unhappy and i want to keep you here with me so i can stay happy. marisa i dnt think i could bare to lose you. god fucking damnit marisa. dont do anything im serious
Samantha: whatever marisa. i love you. and doing anything suicidal oriented would be so impulsive. too many people would miss you and you dont even understand. cutting yourself isnt as permanent as killing yourself. you dont understand how much i love you. or how much your mom, dad, and brother do. or even the people you think hate you...no matter who it is they know who marisa digiuseppe is. and just because you can put a name to a face...well thats enough to hit anyone hard.
Samantha: you may not think i understand. because i think life is beautiful. but i really do understand how you feel. i had to deal with all of johns closest friends....and keenan had gone through his strongest feelings of depression and let it out on me. i was the only one he was telling of his suicidal feelings and thoughts. and i just want you to know u need to talk about anything im here. i know that sounds totally expected but its seriously true. u can call me anytime ever. even during class. ill leave class just to pick up the fone. ive done it before. and of course id do it for you
Samantha: i dnt care if u dnt believe me but im histerically crying. i cnt imagine losing you. i love you so much and just please please marisa dont do anythig like that please
After thinking of going to my friend Ericks house to get his
gun to shoot myself, sam (my girlfriend) talked to me..and
i changed my mind..because yeah, i guess i'm selfish too ..
and i don't want to leave her..ever ..
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