Oh, this is funny.

April was only two months ago. It's fresh; I remember conversations exquisitely, television shows perfectly, exactly how I felt. Somewhere in the past eight weeks, I've abandoned my point of reference. I was admitted to the Medical College of Georgia on the 24th of May weighing in at an impressive 116.4 pounds and measuring 5'11". My mother promptly told half the city and by the 26th, when I returned home, I had an assortment of "get well" cards and balloons. One of my good friends bought me a carton of Camel Lights and another left me an IOU for a bottle of Jack Daniels that I have yet to receive.

What's funny is that the one thing people think is wrong with me is one of the only things that feels right. I do not think I'm fat or hideous or disgusting. I am not depressed. I do not avoid my friends or drink out of sadness. By definition, because I weigh what I do at the height that I am, I have anorexia. Apparently this also means I am a God-fearing, homosexual alcoholic with no social life and am appalled by every square millimeter of my body.

Anorexia is not a reason I would ever consider killing myself. Having to go to these motherfucking therapists every week is.

PS no offense to any anorexic, God-fearing, homosexual alcoholics with no social life who are appalled by every square millimeter of their bodies. Also, I'm not going to kill myself over the motherfucking therapists. I just hate them. Have a nice summer.

Currently Listening Robbers & Cowards By Cold War Kids Hospital Beds see related

Let's see,

I'm on break. I came back from my grandmother's house in Nashville yesterday, so, unfortunately for both you and me, I don't really have any stories of me getting wasted and doing something stupid. Half the fucking school decided to go to Edisto (AKA the one beach in South Carolina that I thoroughly hate. Actually, that's a lie. Myrtle Beach is way worse.) this week and I didn't go because I thought it was only going to be a bunch of alcoholic senior girls. So here I am with nothing to do at midnight in the middle of Spring Break.

My uncle is the Relations Manager for Logan's Steakhouse, where we went out to eat at during my stay in TN at some point, and evidently the manager told him I was puking in the bathroom. He said he wouldn't say anything to my mom because they'd put my ass in therapy (true) but he doesn't want me to do it. He doesn't think it's a routine thing. Ha.

It’s funny how a person can completely turn himself off to everyone, everything after he has his mind set. Of course I am speaking of myself, as usual, and, of course, as usual, the single trait that defines my life: beauty. Or, perhaps more appropriately, lack thereof.

Every time I visit my family in Nashville, I am pummeled with compliments. “You’re skin looks terrific,” “you’ve gotten so thin,” “you’re so good-looking!” I was walking in the mall and it occurred to me, for the second time, how attractive everyone there is. It’s as if they poisoned the water in my magnificent homestead of Aiken, South Carolina (ha) to produce only the ugliest, most awkward children. I personally am from Charleston. I’m very proud of that.

There is nothing I'm more jealous of than that, that effortless appeal. These people do not try, they don't have to. I would be such a wonderful person, if only I had been born naturally perfect.

Other than that, nothing has happened. Last time I weighed myself I had lost 48 pounds since February. All my friends think I'm dying. It's great.

Callie Garrison and Andrei

Currently Listening Everything All the Time By Band of Horses The Funeral see related

I lost 40 pounds. Cool.

I went to a big party on Friday with a bunch of people from the other big school in town. Several of the girls that didn't know me were unaware of the fact that I don't date of have casual sex and pursued me for a good hour. Eventually I got hammered enough to start making out with this girl. Fast forward five minutes and this girl is practically raping me in front of everyone and asking her friend if he had a condom. Luckily, the girl I came with rescued me by proposing Waffle House. The last thing I remember is stumbling to my car. Apparently, I passed out in the front seat.

Champion.

My friend was at least as drunk as I was, if not more, and decided that since I wasn't moving or talking, I must be dead. She ran inside, bawling, and said that everyone at that party was out side around my car within 30 seconds. When they finally determined that I was, in fact, alive, they carried me (dropping me at least once, I have pictures) to the house, undressed me (pictures), gave me a bath (pictures), wrote on my ass (pictures), sort of dressed me (pictures), and tucked me in (pictures). They even read me some of Goodnight, Moon (Yes, pictures)!

I woke up glowing yellow, presumeably from alcohol poisoning, in bed with my friend, the girl who wrote on my ass, and my friends Kent and Jeff.

Came home, lost 4 pounds.

I feel like a real life fucking Jerri Blank, and I can't say that I particularly like it. My drinking is getting out of hand and it really needs to stop. Sure, about 50 people now want me as their new best friend because of it, but I'm making an ass out of myself. A few months ago, I hated people like me.

Actually, I still hate people like me.

Amanda Fisher and Charlz Chalmers

Currently Listening Being There By Wilco Sunken Treasure see related

Well, I got the flu. They weighed me at the doctor. I lost 24 pounds since last time I went to their for my sprained shoulder a little less than a month ago, so I was happy.

To celebrate, me and my friend bought four blunts and went to Olive Garden in Augusta (A.K.A. an hour away).

Then we had this great idea to go visit this guy we knew last year who moved to Columbia. We did, against our better judgement, and spent the first 3 hours going to a different party every 30 minutes. There was an ice luge at the first one and they would not shut the fuck up about me doing it, so I did. And I drank more than anyone else there. Not to mention, we didn't know anyone except that guy and then he left. Fortunately, after I had earned these strangers' respect in the most tribal and immature way I can think of, they were all cool with me and my friend following them to wherever the next place they were going was. Eventually, we ended up at our friend's place. The girl I was with was trying to hook up with this guy, so they went upstairs to lay down in our friend's bed...and she puked. Everywhere. All over his futon, all over his shoes, all over his rug, all over everything. The kid flipped his shit, screamed at the top of his lungs for about an hour, locked us out of his house without the keys. Good times.

When we did get the keys back, I was left to drive her car home, which was an hour away, at two in the morning, very drunk and still high.

And now I'm home and I just realized that I haven't eaten all weekend and it was a complete accident.

Andrea Garner and Ryan Young

Currently Listening Third Eye Blind By Third Eye Blind Slow Motion see related

It occured to me earlier today how little I talk about my actual life. As ridiculously bland as this "city" is, I somehow still find myself in the middle of so much. On Friday, one of my best friends and I went out for Japanese (which I purged, surprise) after shopping for photography supplies. After an hour or so wait and a really big meal, we were both in a good mood. We paid our bill, left a tip, walked out the front door, and then some girl basically attacked her. The bitch is 19 and fucking 2 months pregnant, so there was litterally nothing I could do and not get arrested for. She grabbed my friend, told her she was going to wait outside her work for her, all this shit. We called the cops.

The next day she quit her job. Three weeks prior, she and her friend had gotten in a whole mess of trouble over smoking pot, among other things. She hadn't gotten high since then, so we both agreed that this was an appropriate time to break the fast. I treated her to a blunt and had one myself, then she drove us back to my house. We were almost there when we decided to go down a road barely wider than the car itself. After the first time, she made a goal to hit 70 on the next ride. The road curved and we spun around twice.

Additionally, the entire world has decided for me that I am gay and am relentlessly hit on by guys. I have absolutely no negative feelings toward homosexuals whatsoever, but I'm not one. Last month I went to a party, got wasted, and woke up to one of the JV quarterbacks, drunk off his ass, kissing my neck.

I'm 16 fucking years old. I'm not even out of high school. Something isn't right, something has to change.

I'm not drinking or smoking pot until I can step on the scale and not break down and cry.

Allie Rizzo and Rex Truter