A Storm is Calling, But I Don't Mind

"Why would anyone want to live like this?"

"Because it beats actually living."

Sometimes restricting feels like being on heroin. Kind of mediocre heroin. Where you don't feel ahhh-maaaaz-ing, but you don't feel at all, and that's better than the alternative, which is responding to life. It was like that today. I was very tired, and I really didn't feel like doing shit. I slept for a long time (which I needed to do), and the entire day my body was exhausted, but I didn't much care. I wasn't frustrated that I was so tired and numb. It was nice. I went to therapy and that was okay. I made a naked salad with tofu and bell peppers and that was okay. I worked through a couple monologues and projects and that was okay too. I didn't get mad and I didn't get sad and I had a bit of directionless anxiety driving back from therapy, but that subsided after I ate a few grapes. It was probably triggered by hypoglycemia or something. I'm not too worried about the anxiety getting worse. I have pills. It'll be... okay.

Anorexia or coke. That's my newest excuse for why I continue to starve myself. If I don't use my eating disorder, I won't be able to resist the urge to use drugs. At least eating disorders are legal. You can't go to jail for driving while anorexic (although over the summer I remember the effect being markedly similar to what I've heard of the effects of driving while intoxicated). You won't get arrested for counting calories. And anorexia costs less. Way less.

I called B. last night when I knew he'd be rehearsing for a show he's in and left a message. He has yet to call me back.

That's okay too.