Halloween

Who said sixteen's too old for trick-or-treating? It also helps that I'm 5"1.7' (only short people care about that extra 7/10 of an inch), but my best friend, Olivia, who I went with is like five foot a billion. So we devised this plan where I was her younger sixth grade sister who dragged her along.
Nobody really challenged our age though because we had costumes. I was a Russian army general (go Stalin) and she was a witch. We've gone trick-or-treating for years together except last year (which was a Sunday), ever since the days when we went with Kristin and got in life-shattering arguments about whose turn it was to ring the doorbell.

It was really good talking to her. She doesn't go to my school so it's hard sometimes to stay in touch, and I miss her a lot. We grew up together. There's this sort of special tie you have with the people that knew you when you were young... like Kristin... I miss her a lot. I wish I could sit down and talk to her. The last time I really talked to her was the night my father attempted suicide. I called her later, from outside the hospital, and Olivia, who was there as well. We've been through a lot together, me and Kristin, her father, my mom, eating stuff. And now I have drifted away from her and I hate that. I want to know her again. To talk to her.

Abrupt change of subjects... I live in a house of people obsessed about weight (the eating disorder makes a lot of sense when you live with my family for a day). Everyone (my mom, dad, and aunt) weighs themselves daily. Everyone talks constantly about food and weight and their frustrations with losing weight and how to lose more weight and how much to lose and how much more exercising they need to do and what foods they can't eat and what foods they can... I think that the biggest factors pushing me back towards my eating disorder are my parents. In my mother's struggle to help me, she has become more obsessed than I am with calories and weight and what I should eat and how much I should lose. It's... suffocating. Every morning when we begin the day with our talks about pounds and calories I feel like someone is holding a pillow over my mouth and nose. I feel like screaming. The biggest challenges I will ever face in terms of returning to that disorder are here in my own house, I think.

Today I ate a lot of candy and a homemade donut. I still weighed 111 tonight. I don't care. (Too much! I need to lose weight!) SHUT UP I DON'T CARE! (I need to stop eating so much) SHUT UP I DON'T CARE! BRING ON THE RICE PUDDING! SHUT UP FAMILY SHUT UP BRAIN I CAN EAT WHAT I WANT I DON'T CARE!
(Of course I care. But all I can do is keep telling myself that I don't...)

One year ago today my father wanted me to help him carve the pumpkin so I did, but in between, about every ten minutes, I would run to the bathroom and throw up the pills that I gagged down in handfulls before that.

I REFUSE TO GO BACK TO THAT.

I DON'T NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT, mom. I'M FINE THE WAY I AM.