It hurts

Being away from home is not good for the soul. I feel like I've missed so much!
Just spent the last few hours catching up with your blogs, you are such strong and inspirational ladies.

So, Monday-Thursday in Paris and Friday-Sunday at some sports tournament in Surrey. So much to write.

I suppose, I should start with the last post. It was a bit of a shock coming online and reading it because in my drunken state I had forgotten all about posting it!

So Max...well, let's just say this is the last time I will ever be writing about him in a post as the whole thing was over almost as soon as it began. Like I said before, he had liked me since we met, but being the bitch that I am, I didn't consider him good enough for me, and rejected his advances back in September, soon after which he started going out with another girl and I began to regret my decision because he treated her like gold. They broke up two or three weeks ago. To cut a long story short, I went out that night with all the mates I was going to Paris with (Max being one of them) and erm ...spent most of the night kissing him...
for fucks sake...
The next day I found out that that same night he had tried it on with one of my best friends and while we were in France he sealed the deal with her.
What on earth was I thinking.
All his friends defend him: "He's just really fucked up after breaking up with his girlfriend" etc etc - which is fair enough; he's in the fucked up re-bound/shag everything stage.
But this makes me feel like shit because the only guy to ever say such amazing stuff to me (as he was saying that Sunday night) was saying it because he's fucked up, drunk and desperate to make his ex jealous.
(For the record he was telling me that he admired me for taking so much shit off people about being insecure and that he thought I was beautiful inside and out and that I was too good to be treated badly etc etc - hence why I came back that night in such a tizz).

Final night in Paris, we all go to this posh restaurant and drink disgusting amounts of free wine. I don't really know what to say about this night other than it was a disaster. All week I'd been scrutinised by my friends watching every single thing I ate. Fuck off. "You must eat breakfast, you must eat, you must eat." Like a fucking record going round and round. In Paris Max was there, my stupid friend who got with him was there, not to mention Oli and a parade of pretty girls in his arms and me fat fat fat fat fat fat me. I started my period during the trip and because I'd been fucking myself up so much, it was really late, and really heavy and so I was bloated like a fucking balloon to the extent that I looked 6 months pregnant. Not to mention that my skin broke out in spots as well. I mean, there's hideous and then there's DISGUSTINGLY HIDEOUS.
If I hadn't been in Paris and I hadn't had to go out with my friends, there is absolutely no way that I would have shown my face in public. I have locked myself in my room for looking far less worse before.

Anyway, in this fucking restaurant I had really reached the final straw. I was not eating this shit. (The night before I had drunk a bottle of wine on an empty stomach and of course gotten so drunk, made a fool of myself talking to Max, stuck my fingers down my throat in front of my friends - oops - and spewed as much as I could. Whatever. I put the glass of wine to my lips in this restaurant, take a sip, and my body cries out "poison!" - I couldn't even bare the smell of alcohol. So I spend the meal sitting in the toilets talking to my Mum back in England on the phone.
It ends up with my friend shouting at me for being selfish and lecturing me on a whole load of shit about how I choose to be miserable and that I was stupid, blah blah blah. And all the anger and self-hate that I had been holding in just burst out. Jesus I haven't cried like that in a long time. It was such a relief. Tears streamed down my face and I couldn't stop them. I went back to the hotel.

God I wanted you guys so badly.

My friends had never really seen me in that bad a state before. Like I said, when I get really depressed and cannot face being seen by people I will stay in my flat and won't go out becuase I know I will only break down or come across as a miserable bitch. But during the trip, hiding away just wasn't possible. I had no excuses. I had to try my best to act normal.
My 'friends' are friends with the fake me. The love the girl who is happy and bubbly and outgoing. They love the fun girl who enjoys a laugh. They like to spend time with the person that I create, the fake smile, the character that I put on to hide the truth.
When they see the cracks in the mask, they don't want to know.
When I can't keep up the pretence anymore, they get angry.
Selfish.
She called me fucking SELFISH.
She called me selfish because I refused to eat, because was hurting so much that I couldn't pretend to laugh anymore, because I had let my sadness come through.
Fuck it, I don't even want to write about the whole thing anymore.

Seriously, it hammered it home. My friends will never know or accept the truth. If they ever did, they would hate me for it.
I know what people say about me behind my back.
And I don't care. I hate them more than they hate me.

Maybe I am selfish - because I will be thin at all costs - I am doing this for MY SELF - for my gain. I'm not going to put on a smile and eat just because it makes someone else happy. I am going to be selfish and put my happiness first - my happiness is from starving.

You guys are the only people who have ever understood why I hate myself and can support me in it.

One guy on the trip said to me: "You always have a frown. It's not right; stop it. You are a beautiful, young, intelligent girl with so much going for you, you shouldn't always be so sad. Stop it ok."
I just sighed.
What can you say to that?
Why do people think it's a choice? When I can't face the world, I can't face it - I crumble. I don't choose to be sad - my reflection chooses for me.
I'm sorry my friends don't understand. Happiness comes with beauty. Really, I struggle to think of anything else.