News: I’m in a relationship. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this guy before, but I don’t know what I nicknamed him. So I’ll call him “Ironic Mustache,” since that’s what I called him last semester before I learned is name.

We’ve been head-over-heels in love with each other, but the honeymoon period is coming to an end and I’m doing a lot of the things I always do in relationships that I told myself I’d never do with him. I’m being a pushover… I need to stop or I’ll lose him fast. And he’s just amazing, so I can’t do that…

I just hate when girls flirt with him. Granted, he’s probably the most attractive person on this tiny, God-forsaken campus, but I think our relationship deserves from respect.

Lately he hasn’t been acting as head-over-heels. I really hate it. I’m just fixating and worrying on finding him cuddling with another girl just like he did with me when he was in a relationship with another girl…

And I’m talking about a difference that has occurred over a matter of days, not a gradual change. Perhaps he’s just stressed out and not feeling so affectionate, but I fucking hate feeling this way.

Anyway, I haven’t been eating. He hasn’t noticed. Normally, he would…

If I lose him I will probably die. I can’t lose him. This person is the best thing to ever happen to me. He was my best friend, now he is my boyfriend. It’s perfect. It’s the one stable thing I have left.

I can’t eat. I’m hungry, all I want to do is be around food, but I can’t eat any of it…

I won’t express to him in words how afraid I am. Not yet. I’ll let my body say what I’m having trouble verbalizing first. I shouldn’t have to do that, but the communication has not been in line in the past few days.

I can’t wait to get to work tonight. At the club, I’m fierce, I’m the center of attention. I’m too much to be ignored. I wish I could bring that confidence home with me every night.

I love being in college, but being sick in college is killing me. Literally. I can’t get to some of my classes, I’m very behind on work, and I’m basically just surviving. This isn’t like me at all. I’m used to doing everything right and being the student every professor loves.

I screw up, so I stop eating. I stop eating, so I screw up more. It’s the very definition of a vicious cycle.

What triggered this relapse is:

• An overwhelming feeling of guilt brought on by increasing my intake to around 1,000 calories/day.
• Added guilt because I’ve been too depressed and anxious to keep my perfect attendance in tact.
• A need to be noticed.
• A need to go unnoticed.
• Men. Or man. Or a man, a woman who has this man’s attention, and a woman who is intentionally making me feel bad about how I relate to this man. This is the most specific reason.
• Overdrinking, “drunkorexia.”
• An urge to create and an inability to do so.

A lot is going on, and also, nothing at all. Maybe none of those reasons are true. Maybe I’m just bored. I surely don’t know, I never know what’s right. About 53% of the time I’m not even aware of the things that are going on around me.

I don’t feel real anymore.

Was I expecting anything? Of course not. I know most of the girlfriends. They’re nice people. I’d rather stick by them than jump into bed with their partners.

But damn, these people make me feel attractive, and it’s hard to stay away.

One of them I did sleep with. Apparently he has this on-and-off girl, and he told me that beforehand. I didn’t expect that he even liked me enough to bring it up, and he said it as if he thought I was really into him. I told him I wasn’t, and at the time, that was true – but I won’t lie, now I have a crush pretty bad. He’s absolutely insane though, not in a creative way either – just self-destructive, misguided, lost, and somehow fucking brilliant. People like that are so toxic for me.

I’ve been working at the strip club more often, though I missed this week due to weather. I absolutely love it there, it gives me some healthy perspective about my body. I’ve been reading a lot lately about the erotic as power, and that’s just what I’m gaining from this – power. And some cash on the side. Everyone at school knows; I’m proud of my job.

As for the eating disorder – things have been very up and down, mostly starving, but recently I started eating around 1,000 calories a day, which was a lot for me. I did that for about a week and got into a routine, and anyone who knows me knows I hate breaking routine. So this week, I’ve been purging. It’s awful and my face is getting puffy, but until I can starve again, I’m going to have to deal with it.

Time to chat with my roommate. Bye bye bloggy.

WAIT. Wait. Hold up. What? Anyway, it just made me respect her more. She recovered, and she looks healthy.

Recovery has become a goal of mine since I was in the hospital. Yep, I went to the hospital. I couldn’t eat during finals week, so I was living off of water and coffee for almost a week. I drank 14 bottles of water the day before my first final, and that night, I hopped in an ambulance with the few electrolytes I still had in my system. I had fainted twice that day, then fainted again, came to, and had a panic attack.

So that was really scary. I called West Coast; no answer. My roommate and a friend of mine called him; he wouldn’t answer. I sent a picture message from the inside of the hospital to prove that it was that serious; still no response.

Why the fuck do I have such strong feelings for this guy…?

Everything was going better until that point. We had a big falling out before Thanksgiving, but whenever we’re at a party or something together, we get along like we used to, just without the sharing of intimate secrets / sex. I can sit inches away from him and there’s no problem. I’m happier when I’m with him, even though we supposedly don’t get along…

I miss him so goddamn much.

I’m gaining a lot of weight at home, because I do not want to faint again. But I need to lose some before I go back at the end of the month, because if WC sees this… holy shit. He’ll never regret losing me if he sees this… new fatness.

Oh, and the boyfriend and I are taking a break starting the day I go back to school. He seems to be a big part of the problem WC has with me, so this is why I’m thinking about him more than I was before.

I’m going to miss my boyfriend but I need this time to get my shit together.

I was with a lot of friends at lunch today, but he was sitting alone. I wanted to invite him to sit with us, but then I remembered: he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.

I do think he wanted to sit with us. But he’s afraid.

Speaking of lunch, I’m not eating today. I had coffee, water. I eat can’t after seeing him while I’m this sober, well-rested, and generally content. I can’t hate him when I’m like this. The love troubles me so much more than the hate.

My boyfriend didn’t call me yesterday. And he won’t give me my handcuffs back. That’s kind of sexy, but I don’t like how he encoraches on my personal space and belongings like that. Especially after being raped, I don’t like the surprises of a sexual nature that he so often plans. They make me feel like I’m in a state of crisis and urgency, and sometimes I start to panic.

He doesn’t know what happened and it’s possible that he never will. I haven’t told him or even implied it. My silence is solid for WC’s safety and for my own. It was so hard to discern whether or not there was explicit consent, and I don’t think that WC even knows that it was against my will. I don’t think he meant to hurt me, even if that’s what my counselor thinks.

She warned me that if I put myself in an emotionally vulnerable situation or got myself alone with him, he’d use it as an opportunity to hurt me again. Physically or emotionally. He’s trying to break me down, she says. But I’m not willing to stop trying to reach him.

It sometimes makes me do mean things. I won’t elaborate.

I wanted to tell West Coast that he hurt me. So I got up the courage to ask him to meet with me. He said sure, so I assumed that that was that.

But it’s never that simple with him. I went to his room and he wouldn’t answer the door. Then I texted him. He didn’t respond. So I called him. He picked up the phone and hung up.

Then he texted me something along the lines of “I don’t like you and I don’t want to see you.”

So naturally, I kept trying to convince him that we needed to talk, and naturally, he kept pushing back. So I gave up and said,

“I really wish I could hate you. But I can’t.”

I was at the smoking area at the time, so I sat there for a while. Then I went inside with my boyfriend and cried myself to sleep.

There isn’t enough alcohol or weed in the world to fill the hole that West Coast left. Nothing can make the hurt he left with me go away. I didn’t want to drink last night and I didn’t want to sleep, because I knew that when I woke up, the pain was still going to be there. And it was. But I was so exhausted that I couldn’t cry anymore.

I wish I could show him what he’s doing to me. But he doesn’t want to see any of the bad things he does, and that’s why (I believe) he was too afraid to see me yesterday.

He can’t face the truth.

But maybe that’s a sign that there’s still a good person in there somewhere. The good person who used to show through feels guilty, so he’s hiding. What I have to do is connect with the good in his heart. And I know it’s there.

I have so much love for him in spite of the horrible things he’s done to me. I’m not a perfect person though, and I can only take so much. But if this is coming to an end, it’s going to end on my terms.

It’s a battle of attrition now. He’s losing his friends over this, because even though he refuses to turn his head and see what’s happening to me, his friends see. And they care about me, and they look badly upon him for it. When everyone sees what he’s done and he has nobody to tell him he’s right, maybe he’ll see.

I wish he would just be the same person as he used to be. Sometimes I think he never was that person, but then I remember how we used to be and I know that somewhere in there, he cares.

I just scare him.

What last night made me realize, though, is that my boyfriend grounds me and stabilizes me. I need him in my life when terrible things happen, especially with WC. He was so wonderful to me last night, and I think it made our connection a little stronger. I love him and that’s something that will never go away.

He looked great for the dinner but I didn’t see him at the dance. So I told him he looked good and that I was too high to worry. He didn’t respond, but there’s nothing I can do.

Tomorrow is the boyfriend’s birthday. He managed to get some weed from a friend so I have to think of something else to buy him. He’s turning into kind of a big stoner, which isn’t good because his grades are suffering anyway… but that’s not for me to worry about, it’s his cross to bear.

My grades are what I need to worry about. I spoke with the advisor for students with disabilities on Friday, and he told me he could help me with classes that I don’t have the energy to wake up for. Sometimes I feel so weak that I can’t get out of bed, and he said that it counts as a disability. So what that means is I’ll get to live in a single next year at no extra cost and that my professors will all be notified that I have some debilitating illness that prevents me from having perfect attendance.

My attendance is near perfect, but I don’t want to drop from being an A student to a B+ student just because of depression and anorexia.

I weighed in, and my BMI is 18.4. I’m underweight, but barely. I mentioned last time that I’m doing the “Skinny Bitch Challenge” and that I’m liquid-fasting right now, so I’m hoping to see that number go down soon.

I set a goal at 95. That’s when I’ll be able to smile again. Not so thin that I black out while walking, and not fat enough to invalidate any fleeting moments of joy I might experience.

I’m feeling really tired, but I’m going to go into town to get a gift for the boyfriend later. I’ll need more coffee first I think.

I’m ignoring West Coast, because I’m absolutely sick of the heartache. This hurts a lot too, but I don’t want to have to hear him say something awful like he did last week.

I can hardly believe I’ve gone a full week without talking to him… I miss him like hell.

Part of me wants to get him jumped. That would be really easy, because I know a lot of tough guys who absolutely hate men who victimize women. These guys operate on a sub-zero tolerance policy.

But I know in my heart of hearts that violence can’t be solved with violence. And I really do care for him, and seeing him get hurt would probably make things a lot worse in the grand scheme of things, no matter how much I want there to be some kind of recourse for what he did and said.

Something in me is telling me that I should talk to him. But he’s crossed a line and I can’t apologize anymore.

“Sorry I let you rape me.” It sounds stupid when you say it aloud, n’est-ce pas?

“Sorry for spending so much time and energy on you.”

“Sorry for believing you when you said you’d be there.”

“Sorry for depriving myself of so much in order to give you more.”

“Sorry for expecting a short visit from you after everything we’d been through.”

“Sorry for waiting in my room for you for hours and hours when you weren’t going to come over anyway.”

It all sounds so stupid. What have I even been apologizing for? It’s not fair. Everyone observing this trainwreck between WC and I agrees, and I trust that they would tell me if I were out of line. He’s awful… but that makes me want him worse.

He doesn’t realize that what he did to me has made my eating disorder get markedly worse. I feel like a worthless piece of trash. I can’t accept anything about me that is imperfect, especially not on my body. Now that he doesn’t want me anymore, I just feel like everything I am is wrong. I probably could have been more irresistable. I probably could have kept my facade up for longer, and then I could have had him for longer. I could have been less weak in many regards – with the food, with saying “no,” with the mental breakdowns he’s been witness to.

But I’m weak.

Weak enough to have to get back into this “pro-ana” bullshit too, apparently. There’s this Twitter thing, “The Skinny Bitch Challenge.” I find that when I have a goal in mind like that, like a set number of calories each day or a pledge to only drink juice and water, everything is more effective. It makes each day feel compartmentalized, like each one is a new opportunity to work harder, detached from all the days before it. It’s a safe feeling.

I’m on a liquid fast until Thanksgiving, and by that time, the Skinny Bitch Challenge will have started. I’m not so sure what to do about Thanksgiving, actually, because my family is catching on fast. I’ll have to think of something to stay one step ahead of them all.

It’s stupid, and it feels like I’m back in middle school, but it helps me along. The support is kind of nice, too. I just don’t want to be that “oMg PoAsT tHiNsP0o0!” girl or some sort of “wannarexic” who only puts the fucking fork down to cry about her weight.

This liquid fast has been a great success today. My friends are all going out to dinner, and if I go along, I’ll be ordering water and water alone. I’m broke anyway, so this is my best option, disorder aside.

Reading this over another time, I see that I’m really sick and fucking twisted. It’s sick how I want him still, it’s sick how cowardly I am, and it’s definitely sick how much I hate myself and demonize people who are just like me.

I’m in an awful mood. And the fucking washing machines are broken… fuck this dorm.

It’s hard writing that out and harder admitting it to myself. It happened weeks ago, but I just realized it. It certainly explains the panic attacks I’ve been experiencing.

It was “gray-rape,” but the feeling is just as bad. I don’t think he even knows that he did this to me. I said no, but he kept pressuring me. I needed him to protect me from myself, I didn’t want to lose him because of something stupid like sex. I don’t know what other decision I could have made.

I feel filthy.

It was WC, by the way.

He was getting really aggressive with me when we were drinking this weekend, too. He responded to my trying to be playful with anger. He pushed me and twisted my arms and yelled at me, in front our friend.

This was after he announced to the whole room that he never cared about me, and he was just trying to “get in my pants.”

This friend of ours said he wanted to punch WC at that point.

He always gets his way.

All I’m thinking about is West Coast though… he doesn’t understand why he’s hurt my feelings. He ignored me all night and then when I asked him about it, he just said “That’s the point. I just don’t want to be around you.”

How could that be construed as not hurtful…?

Guys keep asking me “Why him?” They say I’m “so hot,” they say I could have any guy on campus I want, they try to convince me not to care about WC, but this isn’t a feeling I get to choose.

I try to present myself as a dominant, alpha female. I want everyone to think I have control over my life, especially my relationships. But I simply don’t.

I wonder what he’s going to do when I die. I’m saying when, not if. When I die of alcohol poisoning, starvation, cancer, suicide, whatever, I want him to have to fucking watch. I want him to be the one crying for once, not me. I want to have the power to break his heart.

But even if I could, I’d never do that to him. Not in a million years.