Somehow hospital beds seem more comforting than my own room
in past 9 days
ended up in the emergency room with overdosed and cuts. it was too late to pump my stomach so..i forgot parts of that night but i remember the doctor kept kicking on my bed to keep me conscious for awhile and yelling at me about how i would have been dead if i was 30 seconds late.
then they took me to the iCU unit and i was there for 3 nights. and everyone called me sleeping beauty cause i cried, slept, woke up, cried again and went back to sleep.
of course, the assholes sent me to another hospital to stay in a psych ward until they felt like i wont kill myself and also this is the 3rd time in one year that i tried to off myself.
even though, it was involuntary; it was funny to fake being so okay in front of others and the doctors to help myself get out of there.
but i am back in home and i feel like i am back to where i started. also my ipod is at the same spot i stopped the music and i started from there..
but later my sister told me how everyone in emergency room was dying about how pretty i am..
so at least i can say i am going to die extremely pretty
Mom is forcinge to go the emergency roomnbut no way in hell I am going to end up there twice in one week.
When my dad comes home, he might just drag me there..sigh
I threw up twice already
how come?
why????!
i dont know. probably because i looked like my whole world collapsed and i was just dragging my body around
I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, I hold my breath. I turn my face. I want to cry.
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| — | Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia by Marya Hornbacher (via thechocolatebrigade) |
