I don't care anymore. I have to get out of here, my mom's that is. When I was at my dad's this weekend, I got away with so much. Like it's not even funny, and my mom even told him what to do. God, I love my dad. I just have to move in with him. I don't care what it takes, I have to do it. My mom says it's going to cost money for lawyers and court things but I don't care. I need this. I need it more than anything. My ED was happy there, and so was I. I'm going to do this. Sorry mom, but I am going to move out. And when I came home today, I unpacked all of my boxes and books and stuff and set back up my room as I had it, because I thought I didn't want to move out. But I don't care, I'll pack it all back up again, like I've done many of times already.
Hmmm...my friend Amanda is coming over tomorrow. She understands me so much, like everything that's going on. She says she has the same things going on with her too; the voices in her head telling her not to eat, and etc. She did loose so much weight, she's literally a stick now. But she doesn't feel that way, and as she tells me I'm a stick, I don't at all feel that way. I'm so bloated right now, my stomach sticks out so much - it looks like I have a balloon under my skin. Ugh. I want to loose this all so bad, like right now! ): But that can' happen just yet. After these two weeks of fucking absolute hell are up, I am moving out, like it's legit. Well I don't know what else to say. I haven't weighed myself in a week, and I have no intent in doing so. Fuck this, and fuck you mom. Go drink yourself to death, because that's exactly what you're doing.