helpless.

so tired..so helpless..so...done. the only thing i have in my life is my hatred for myself. it keeps me level. stable. somewhat. i am not the same little girl that started this blog. i am cautious, i am afriad, i am...done. i am done with it. i am done with being so sick of myself, of wishing i could just go curl up in a hole somewhere and die. but i can't stop. i can't get any bigger. i owe it to myself to not make all my pain for nothing. i want to have a larger gap in my thighs by june. yeah, june. four months to lose like, 20 pounds. thats five pounds a month. i can do that. i can lose 20 pounds in a month if i really try. and i mean really REALLY try. i dont want to be like this forever, but i dont want to live forever either. if i died tomorrow, i'd be perfectly fine with it. i want to die slowly. i want to waste away. to extend my life as long as i can, get smaller, and die at a solid 85 pounds. that way, when people look into my casket, they see a person that is a shell of her former self. they see what ive been feeling in my heart all this time. gone. shriveled. helpless, gullible, and niave. a girl who didnt want to exist, but still had enough hope in life to die with a dream. a dream that will kill me if i pursue it. this is the one thing that keeps me rooted to the world. when i die, i dont want to have  a ton of casket bearers, i want it to have to be just two people, carrying me with such ease,and thinking to themselvs how little i must be. i want my arms to shrink, my legs to disinigrate, and my um.."chest" to dissolve into nothing. i want to be as small as possible. i want all of my clothes to be waayyyyy to baggy. i want my arms to be as big around as my wrists are now. i want people to be able to see right through my legs. they have a small gap now. i want it to look like the goddamn grand canyon. i want Blake to look at me and wonder what happened, i want D to blame himself, i want my brother to hold me to him and tell me that he loves me, no matter what, i want my mom to be concerned about me for once. i want my father to realize that there is no hope in saving me. its a lost cause. you cant save someone when they feel like their already dead. is this how a dead person feels? are the colors dull to them, as they are for me? do the foods all taste the same? do they think about going to where they really belong as much as i do? judgement has to come soon. i want to face god and him to feel all the anguish that i felt through this year, and the rest of my life. these are all things that will happen when i am skinny, small, light as air, boney, and absolutly, unbelieveably, ungodly perfect. i will be beautiful when i die. i will be amazing when the whispers start. they will love me, feel sorry for me, accept me, and welcome me. they will come to know that i am what i am, and that the me they knew was just a shell, holding something that had been waiting to break away. but, if they dont..
at least my family wont have to spend much on a casket.
i want to be able to fit in the narrowest casket they have.