Ohkay, So It's Different Now. I Think.

My friend promised me she'd wait with me to stop eating. Well, she promised she'd try. And that's all I'm asking. I know it's hard.
I hate this, I hate me.
I hate it when my thighs touch, but I also hate it when my wrist sears with pain at the slightest touch because it's a bit bony. I hate how I just cut a "J" on my thigh. I hate how I couldn't quit thinking about not eating forever. I hate how I couldn't quit thinking, "Maybe when I'm dead, I'll lose more & more wieght." I hate how I couldn't quit thinking about him (This is weak, and this must stop. He's gone. Accept it.) I hate how I couldn't stop wanting xanax. I hate how I freak out about every little thing. i hate how I just want to hurt everyone. I hate how I love everyone. I hate how I can't go a day without thinking about drugs. I hate how I walk, a special walk so my thighs don't touch. I hate how I lie to my mom everyday and tell her what "I ate" for breakfast. I hate how I say "I just had a lot of energy drinks". I hate how I constantly check the space between my thighs, and the bonyness of my hips. I hate how I want to call him. I hate how I want to just tell everyone bye and fucking end it. I hate this, and I hate me.
Sincerely,
-This isn't working.