Thursday, 23 June 2011


The head coach at gymnastics (where I coach) told me that I lost weight. When I said thank you, she said "no that's not good, because you've gained fat and lost muscle". She asked me what I'd been eating, and I told her. She's put me on a diet, and told me I have to exercise.

50 situps last night to kick start everything. And today I have had half a cup of slim a soup.

This is the beginning of a new era, I won't let myself down. More importantly, I won't let you down.

I've been checking up my stats, and this month I've had over a thousand views so far. This is going to be my motivation. Every time someone looks at my blog, they need to see that I'm doing well, getting thin.

As soon as I get internet back at my house, I'm going to start posting weekly Vlogs.

It doesn't matter what you think you can achieve you fat bitch. I'm going to make you achieve it. I'm taking over your mind, slowly but surely. I WILL make you thin.

Wednesday, 22 June 2011


How dare you eat you fucking worthless piece of shit. Like the breakfast you ate this morning wasn't enough. Why do you fill yourself with this poison day in day out? Do you like me being angry at you? Do you like me having to invade your mind? You must do, you'd do better otherwise.

One potatoe, two potatoe, three potatoe, four.
You fucking fat bitch, don't you dare eat anymore.

Fight your body, it's weak. You need to be strong. Don't you dare give in to temptation. You want me to be happy with you, I know you do. So do something about it. Be proactive. You're going to start training again tonight.

A situp, or two, or three, of four hundred.
Don't stop. Can't stop. Won't stop.

Your mind is stronger, your soul is free. Don't you see, the more your bones ache, the more your stomach caves in, the stronger you are becoming.

So it's quite simple my darling, you have a choice.

Get thin, or die trying.

Monday, 20 June 2011

Bundled into a car.

I have a confession. I'm falling for my boss. My 28 year old boss.

There's a psycho girl at work who has it badly for him, and she chats so much shit it's unreal. ABout how they're an item, always have been. He's tried to tell her otherwise, but she won't listen. It's odd. But her taunting me, her digs, drove me to do something stupid on friday night.

We all went out to the pub after work, and I was drinking a lot. This girl wouldn't stop letting me know I was the outsider, wouldn't stop trying to make me feel small about myself. So I decided to make her jealous by getting the phone number of a guy I knew she'd been making eyes at that night. But I'd had 9 double vodkas, and it didn't go that well. I ended up going home with him.

He was a nutter and tried to give me drugs, and his flatmate turned up. I got sober pretty quick. Somehow I got them to drive to a newsagents, and when we pulled up, I legged it. Just ran.

The funny thing about Croydon at 2am is that there are a lot more nutters about. Two black guys tried to get me into their car.

I got home in a state. I don;t want to go out anymore.
Someone asked if it was my fault, because of what I was wearing. I was wearing bootleg jeans and a hoodie.

This time... it wasn't my fault.

I'm falling apart.

PS I'm having to post comments as anon cause my blogger has fucked up :/

Thursday, 16 June 2011

Our souls died a long time ago.

Breathe in. Feels your lungs expanding. Feel your ribs get tighter. Feel the air rushing into your body. Pure.

Take a bite. It's only a bite. Only 37 calories in a bite. It's safe.

Feel the euphoria. The paranoia. Lose control. Three hundred calories more. See the cupboard. Grab the crisps. Grab the bread. Grab the chocolate spread. No need for a knife, eat it straight from the jar. You're disgusting.

Your belly expands. Your cheeks fill out. Drink a litre of cola. WHAT ARE YOU DOING. SPIT IT OUT, IT'S NOT DIET. Drink it anyway.

The liquid swills around your stomach. The bread soaks it up. The crisps tickle your throat. You've chocolate around your mouth. You're deluded, crazy.

It's okay the little voice says. You're allowed to eat. You've done so well. For a moment you believe it.

See your reflection, see the mess you've created. Reach for the broken metal. Draw it across over and over. See the red. Feel the warmth. See the stains on your shirt. See the mess you've created.

Know the mess you have become.

Race upstairs. Make yourself heave. We need to. We need to be pure. We need to be empty.

You stupid bitch. Look what you've done.

Don't play the game unless you're prepared to lose. No body comes out sane. We may still be living, but our souls died a long time ago.

Tuesday, 7 June 2011

I'm Still Here

I'm trying to sort my head out. Everything is just so damn wrong.