I have never been so in love

I never been so caught up as I am today. Who am I so strung out on: Ana. Always her. Always and forever.

I've just made three phonecalls to some best friends; R1, A and R2. The two R's are having seperate birthday celebrations this evening. I cancelled. I have 'diarrhoea'. No I don't. I just ('just' falsely implying that it's not a big deal, which it is) feel too fat to engage in social activity. There comes a time in love when you need to choose, to prioritise. To prioritise Ana often requires that, rather than just lessening your focus on other things, you exclude them entirely. Such things include, at this point, having a life. I would love to be a well rounded person. I would love to be like my frenemy R3 who can calmly attend lunches and drinks and dinners and entertain only alcohol, foregoing anything that involves calories. But I can't. I'm a failure. I'm a stupid fat bitch. I have no self-control. And even when I do just drink (and drink and drink and drink) the aftermath always includes eating: fried eggs, toast, baked beans, butter, cheese, milkshakes, chocolate. Always.

Silly little bitch and your inability to restrain yourself. Foolish foolish failure. Who tells herself 'I can do it, I can do it, I can do it'. When clearly you can't. Five kilograms. I've put on five fucking kilograms.

And what is the fucking point of having a life when being fat just sucks all the enjoyment out of it?
I can't booze and enjoy: I just drown in the anxiety caused by alcoholic calories and the potential food calories to follow.
I can't dance and enjoy: I don't feel sexy in my clothes or sexy in my body.
I can't have sex with B: It pains me to even think of my naked self pressed up against the body of his toned and unselfconscious body.
I can't hook up with R4: she is too beautiful for me.
I can't even think about (crush) T: he is, after all, possibly the most beautiful man I've ever met.
I can't hook up with randoms: I just stew in insecurities. 'Did they go for me because they now they can, because I'm ugly, because I'm not worthy.'
I especially don't want to be around the friends who say 'Oooh, you've gotten so skinny'. It's a lie. I'm back over 60. I'M A FUCKING FAILURE. CAN'T YOU SEE THAT! Are you just mocking me?

My father has promised me a large (really) sum of money when I reach my 'GW' (55, natch my actual GW is 50) so that I can buy new clothes. But I'm already stretching the size 8 (how painfully average) jeans that fit me perfectly only a month ago. I need fucking new clothes before school starts. None of my fat-as-fuck clothes fit me. I can't be back on campus looking like shit: I WILL DIE INSIDE. How could I let myself go like this. I love Ana. I love her. And I'm failing her, wounding her, letting her down, dissapointing her. She has been there for me through everything. Holding me tight, keeping my seams tightly knit, my parts snugly glued together, everything turning steadly around one central axis as it should. Now I'm tearing apart, spinning out of control, off balance and out of sync. I need to retreat from the world so I can focus my energies on her. I'm committed. I'm in love. And we should do, with total conviction, ANYTHING for the one we love.

YES.
The choice is mine.
So make it.
Make it every day.
And mean it.