today I bought undies, bras, socks, and a belt. I also bought cigarettes, an iced soy black and tan, a vegan banana muffin, and a slice of cheese pizza. Oh victory, I can wear you around, like an extra pound! Whatever.

My therapist kindly pointed out that maybe Lui would be interested in me after I graduate. Way to get my hopes up, you (loving) cunt! She also pointed out that I am torn between responsibility and my inner wild child! Woo! That may be why I constantly am making terrible decisions, yet making good plans for good decisions.

I am so tired I could scream. Fuck you melatonin! i <3 you.

I'm going to sleep in tomorrow. That will be nice.



Sleep ways down like a fine powder
lead-heavy and crushed dust-thick
coating and laying heavenly in the mouths
of every single worshipper singing the
praises of every deity and demonic
beast that walks the same planet we do.

It has been a long time since I was this happy.

The following has been marked-out as if corrected. No worries. Read on:

These songs I am singing are my life's anthems. We can share them. We are crying these notes, these poems and phrases. Touching the rough stubble of your scalp and knowing that your head is resting against mine. Laughing, carefree as we toss and turn in our unrest. Feeling on top of the world while I leave you in utter bliss, and don't act like I don't know because that smile says that your world was just turned upside down. It was, wasn't it? I think you know more than you would like to right now, and it's scary, isn't it? I never knew that being conventional could be so very charming, oh so very comforting! Let's bask in these short moments of euphoria, shared between the few and fair because the rest just don't know what it is that they are missing. Pity them not, they choose their battles, their priorities. My heart beats softly, the barest tap of rain on the windshield. Let's breathe in this moment deeply, cherish the very air we take in, breathe about. Don't forget that we have to leave soon, please don't leave soon. It will be too late to save if we just give up now. Your eyes consume me, spread from my fingertips to my wrists until my hands are forced to sway from one decision to the next. as if I can be torn apart between the many lips around us, rows and rows of rough teeth surrounding me. Eyelids dusted with opium-love drift closed and flutter fast as hummingbirds. The rain is the pulse in my throat, where I can feel your lips. Rows and rows of roughly chewed mouths.


and now this:

The rain is the fluttering pulse at my throat, where I feel your breaths cave in and out, spacing around the idea that maybe this is as good as it gets. I hear the rustling, the shifting, the lovingly lovely noises of what is apparently under my control. I am out of control.

I want to feel like this forever.

salt has gathered on my lips
flecking dusty off my chin as
I speak through your skin
touching lightly the small of
your back while we keep our
voices the barest of whispers.



today was amazing. I absolutely loved it, even if I'm not spending the night in greensboro.

when I break, will you be the one to slam me back together, or gently piece me into place?

I've decided on the piercings I will get: septum, smiley/scrumper, navel. I may hold off on the tattoo for a little while. I don't know. I just need to be hide everything, which is a bummer, but it's a small price to pay to be a teacher. Oh obsessions, how I love you!

I'm worried about speech and debate. My final exam is a 10 minute poetry recital, which was my choice, which is exciting. Hopefully I pass all of my classes other than tech theater. That would be nice nice nice.

SO TIRED.

My life is an indie love song.

Wisteria and foxgloves sprout directly parallel
in the garden of my mind
you are thin green vines wrapped around
my fingers like rings

where my heart once was grows a seed
small and round like a river stone
and instead of tears I cry petals
of lavender and sky-white diamonds



it's highly possible that this picture of wisteria will be my first tattoo

We've spent a few nights together-but-not, wrapped in two distinct parts of the whole and buzzed past the point of preservation. A couple of times we've wandered away from home to rest beneath the buzzing electricity of second-home comfort. Distinctly, our alternate reality is lulling compared to the universe we supposedly dwell in. The contrast is jarring, setting my teeth on edge and biting the back of my throat more than all of the liquor in the world. More than anything else, I live for these moments we share, and I feel like you know that we have something special going for us. No matter where we are, like two magnets, we get interlocked when we pass close enough by. It's something I can rely one. You're someone I can rely on.

I took your breaths as a sign of hope, took them down to my heart and cherished them like tiny keepsakes in lockets. I placed your optimism like a new realization behind my eyes, of sudden flashes of color as I tripped on the sidewalk, legs crossed while I pretended to play drums like selling my soul for the next blow to my throat. Please kill me now, I hope this next beating eliminates my racing thoughts.

And I said, "Your words stop trains from slamming madly into me, and comets from caving my head in. Your words are mystical and softly-spoken. I am prey to the intention of every thing you say."

And she turned away with a smile.

And she kept walking.

I have this yearning to be a many-eyed monster, part of one among few. Again, even when I thought I was over that sort of thing. Life is beautiful, though, so I may as well be in the thick of it.

Someone encourage me please.

Lovability has never been one of my stronger traits, if you could even argue that it is one!

motherfucker.

I can't believe she's gone (not forever) and I feel sick with my own emptiness (I'm actually full of emotions). It's all I can do to eat and keep it down, but I have to do my very best.

NO cutting or purging. I owe it to her and a lot of others.

holy shit the world is going to swallow us alive. whoawhoawhoa.

sidenote, whatthefuckever.

I went to Jan's House today after school. By myself. For two and a half hours. Doing nothing but drinking coffee and writing. Occasionally eating--okay, mostly eating. Sometimes even pondering over various inconsequential lifetime elements. Bahaha, once again, mostly eating. With no one there to hawk-eye me, unlike at school, where I am watched. All. The. Time.

Today I've had a bowl of kashi go lean with sliced strawberries and lactaid (grossy gross), three apples, a grapefruit, a tuna chef salad (pure deliciousness), and a bowl of fruit loops with vitamin d milk. Add in trivial amounts of cream from my coffee and I'd say I did pretty well today. Barely any purging, and even though that sounds sketchy, that means a lot. I only purged a little of the grapefruit, and that was for attention, which I'm going to try and stop doing. Going to try so hard. But I did better than I usually do. I'd say that's approximately... actually... I don't give a shit what that approximately is. I'm going to have peanut butter on a slice of bread before I go to sleep and I'm calling it quits.

I've written and written today. I recited my poetry to the speech and debate class, and I think they liked it. Tomorrow Mrs. Patty said I could recite more for a reserved period of time. I'm going to compile a website of nothing but my writing. Can I make one of those without seeming like an idiot? Maybe I should just complete a file or something. Blahblahblah writing blahblahblah coffee blahblahblah eating disorder blahblahblah school blahblahblah teaching blahblahblah love blahblahblah music blahblahblah friends. Tralalalalala.

I miss Ms. Wright. She was totally my knight in shining armor when I needed one. I want/need to talk to her. I owe her so many thanks, and I feel like she deserves to know that I'm subconsciously paying her back with my every word and movement. Every breath I take is a praise on her behalf. She basically saved my life freshman year, I mean, what would I have done without her? Easy! I would have killed myself. On the brightside, she basically saved my life and I'm here, well and breathing. How many teachers can brag about that? Actually, I'm sure quite a few can. I guess I'm just one of the lucky ones, touched by the presence of these savior oddities.

I CAN'T WAIT TO LEAVE GREENSBORO. Oh me oh my, I just cannot wait. Asheville sounds like it's going to be so much fun. AND HANNAH WILL BE THERE, TOO. HI HANNAH. LEMME GIVE A SHOUT-OUT TO MY PEEP (singular).

I hope every time someone reads my blog, they can hear me narrating. That's how characteristic I want my writing to be. I want it to be like none other. I am Mia McCarthy and I deserve to be treated as nothing more or less.

I'm so excited about college. College college college. I'm going to have so much fun, I can already tell! All of these classes to choose from, and they don't last too long to keep my attention. Miss Victoria Spring (you think I'm shitting you, but I shit you not, that's her lovely lovely lovely name) will be my roomie and I'm just so euphoric about the whole deal. She's one of the huge reasons that I am really choosing recovery, because I can't end up triggering one of my friends. That would be absolutely awful. College just sounds so interesting, and EXCITING. Then why am I not excited about finally graduating? Probably because I'm having to pass this final stretch, which is a Grade A Bitch.

okayokayokay, you guys... I may go back to therapy sooner than I planned. That is, before I'm Skeletor's twin again. Satisfied? Probably not.

But I need to get my shit back under control because this is fucking ridiculous.

On the brightside, fucking my ipod over has led me to rediscover the glory of compact discs.

and mix CDs for sure. and playlists. and frostwire.


and oregon trail?

FUCK!

I just erased all of my music off of my ipod!




D:



WTF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




WTF AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?

I just downloaded as much David Bowie as I possibly could. I'm officially addicted, and he's ancient. The Ziggy Stardust album is mind-blowing. What else is there to say?

I'm almost finished moving all of my shit around. Sweet. I just need to unpack my books and shove everything into the attic before I straighten up, etc. Then I will need to do SO MUCH SHIT this week. BLARGH, papers, models, plans, portfolios, etc.

I'm going to cry when I graduate.

today I ate and kept down: 1 packet sugarfree cocoa with 1 scoop unsweetened soy protein powder, 1 red apple, 8 oz. strawberry smoothie with light vanilla soymilk and 1 scoop unsweetened soy protein powder, 6 slices of vegan bologna, 1/2 tbsp red pepper hummus, lettuce, 1/2 whole grain wrap, 3/4 cup kashi go lean 1/2 cup strawberries and 3/4 cup light vanilla soymilk, 1/4 alice chocolate cream pie, 1/2 veggie burger on seeded bread with lettuce and tomato. Then I had a pretty bad b/p session. Fuuuuuuckkkk.

Oh well.
Tomorrow is another day.
Clean water, fresh air, new moon.

I can't believe I'm actually maintaining my writing lately. Everyone will be proud--that's what I keep telling myself, what I have to hear.

Today I poured my lust into a poem and was told it was gross. Dammit. What am I doing wrong? Is my lust just too unfiltered? Am I just too harsh? Am I finally doing something wrong?

Today I kept down 3 lil' soymilk boxes, 4 apples (3 green, 1 red), 2 servings mighty mango naked juice, 1/2 pita, 2 tbsp vegan butter, 1 lil' box of raisins, 1/3 cup oat bran cereal, and 1 1/2 scoops unsweetened soy protein powder (which is disgusting, I should have bought the vanilla or chocolate). I think that is an accomplishment, but it's scary that I'm still so hyperaware of what I'm eating, the amounts and stuff. Tomorrow my mother, my mother's girlfriend, and I will go grocery shopping and I will buy nothing but safe foods. I'm really tossing back and forth the idea of going back to therapy. My mother said that maybe Kelly can motivate me to go back into recovery, or at least away from my EDs. I'm really struggling to decide what path I'm taking. I'm so excited about uni because I can just live off of fruit, vegetables, and soymilk. That's awful, I know. My roommate struggles with purging anorexia and I don't know if it's such a good idea for us to live together. Fuuuuucckkkk. My mother already sent in my housing requests.

I might fail Technical Theatre, which is completely ridiculous. I resisted the urge to cut today after doing those stupid fucking fake wounds in that class. Guitar was a bitch, which makes it the usual as of late. DUDE, Lui, though, mannnn... indescribable. Bahaha, he said he wouldn't lecture me, then proceeded to do just the opposite of what he had said. Awesome, I love it when he's a bitch.

Speaking of guitarists, poor Alex. I just want to cougar dive onto Tally and go for the jugular. Seriously.

My cat (named Honey, a female tabby) was sleeping on my back just moments ago and snoring.

I am tired from all of the b/p sessions yesterday, and I'm going to sleep because my writing is dissolving into short sentences and paragraph breaks. Dammit, once again, just for emphasis.


Where am I headed? Honestly!