i had the most fucked up dream last night. i dreamed i was back in middle school and was seriously anorexic looking (i was anorexic in middle school, but i never looked like how i looked in my dream) i seriously looked like those really really scary (yet appealing and beautiful) triggering pictures that people look at on pro anorexia sites. anyway, i was in middle school, minding my own business, and my teachers burst on the scene trying to stage an intervention. they were chasing me as i was trying to run away, but of course i was too weak to run very fast and they caught up with me and held me and saying "what are you doing to yourself, can't you see what you're doing" and i was crying and they were crying and they took me to the principal's and he started crying. i was crying because they were acting like they cared and it hurt so much and yet that was the one thing that made me break down.

the really crazy thing is - i woke up happy. i thought it was a great dream.

which got me to thinking. what if. what if part of this whole obsession is wanting someone to care about me? what if i want someone to take care of me? in all my years of this shit, no one has cared. no one has even noticed, even when i was far thinner than i am now. when i actually was in middle school one teacher found out i was suicidal and staged a sort of mini intervention which involved sending me to the school psychologist (a complete incompetent, in case you're wondering) and having the vice pricipal call my parents. woo. in school i had teachers to impress. my scholastic ability made them care about me and like me. in college i had a couple professors who i could relate somewhat to, and who i worked hard to impress. here there is no one. no one to care. no one to watch out for me. not that i should need that, right?? i'm practically twenty five for crying out loud! shouldn't i be trying to impress myself, take care of myself? but that's not a motivator for me for some bizarre reason. i feel so useless, so unloved because i have no one's attention. especially no "adult" to impress and win over. perhaps it's the precocious child still left in me. who the fuck knows.

i feel myself slipping again. the sand under my feet is fleeing to somewhere safer - although i'm sure my subconscious intented the dream as a warning i can't help but take it as an invitation to delve further into all this madness. even after all these years of starting and re-starting and ups and downs and lows and extreme lows, the thought of achieving more (or, as the case may be, less) sends tingles of excitement through my body and i feel the anticipation.

i am going to get to a new all time low. i feel it. i have 15 to go til my last low weight, the weight i was hospitalized at four years ago. i'm going for twenty.

here i fucking go.

starving + bleeding