What's the point?
There is no point.
Does this mean we shouldn't try?
Well no, it just means we shouldn't expect much.
Doesn't that mean that it's pointless?
Yes it does, shall we repeat the conversation?
No, it's okay. There's no point.
My, oh my. I wish my mind would stop conversing with itself. It's annoying, especially when it's not particularly enthralling. I wish I could escape it, but there is no way to escape your head.
So instead, I empty it, into this, for no real reason. But an empty mind is far better than an overwhelmingly full mind.
I have nothing particularly interesting to say tonight.
I met a girl online, or rather, she found my email address off a site and contacted me. It's strange, because she is (almost) where I was 4 years ago. She is on the precipice of something horrific, and she hardly knows it. I'm trying to tell her, RUN WHILE YOU CAN, but then I remember how I received those same warnings and brushed them off completely. Is trying to tell her to get help while it's not serious then a futile idea? I'd like to think not, but I really don't know.
She's at the 'I think I have an eating disorder, but I'm not anorexic' stage. The stage where it kind of starts to twig that hey, I may have a problem here, but aw nah, it's not serious. Fuck. It.
I think there is a certain delusion associated with having an eating disorder. I know that I have it, and K- does, too. You know exactly what you're getting yourself into because it's one of the few things left you can physically focus on. Your mind is so full of numbers and facts, repetitive thoughts, a voice constantly droning on at you all day and night; all you can think about is food. Food food food. And weight. And eating disorders. You read everything you can find, you devour the information instead of calories. You realise that you're going to be deficient in everything; that your hair is going to fall out and it will sadden you greatly; that your breath will smell odd if you go into ketosis; that you are going to be cold. And I don't mean, oh it's a little chilly in here, isn't it? I mean fucking freezing, a perpetual state of utter frozenness, impossible to thaw, that sits in your bones. And you know that your concentration will shatter, your memory is going to be shot to hell. You know that there will be days in which you will be too weak to lift your head off the pillow, and yet you will still struggle to fit in those essential exercises. You know that your electrolytes are going to get completely out of whack, that your heart muscle will weaken and your brain will eat itself; you KNOW that it will fucking kill you. But there is always always ALWAYS that voice that tells you, 'You won't die. You're not that bad. Shut the fuck up and give me 20'. And you believe it. You believe, in spite of the facts, that you will not die and you will somehow be able to defy biology itself and become infinitely smaller.
And it will be grand.
Even if it is fucking stupid.
I don't know why I wrote all that, but I'm too lazy to start again.
I don't think I even have a point tonight, other than that minds are dangerous places and right now, I'd give both my kidneys to be able to escape my head.
The brain is amazing. Thought is incredible.
My brain and my thoughts just seem to not like me very much.
What a bizarre notion.
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