new

6/10/2026

(content warnings: suicide, eating disorder)

so, it’s been a minute

nearly four months ago, not too long after posting my last entry, i tried to kill myself. i’d been drinking all day, then realized my ex had blocked me on instagram and decided to swallow the klonopin i’d hoarded since i was sixteen. for better or worse, my attention-seeking streak won out and i sent concerning messages to a variety of people, including my little brother who told my parents. they found me, i lived, end of story.

following that, i entered residential treatment for anorexia, which honestly went well. then i stepped down to their intensive partial hospitalization program, and it all seemed to go to shit. i was discharged to intensive outpatient last friday despite expressing concern to my team, and since then i’ve B/Ped six times. you’re smart enough, you can gather how things are going from that.

i’m at yet another crossroads - life seems fond of tossing those in my path lately. my logical mind knows i should just get recovery over with so i don’t have to worry about it later on when i could actualize what i want, yet the spiteful part of me wants to starve even harder to prove (to whom?) that i’m sick enough to warrant concern, care, anything. i thought reaching my last low would prove that to myself. as per usual, i was wrong.

i don’t think i want my ex, specifically, but i want validation, connection, some form of physical contact instead of just lying in bed alone and pinching at my own skin. that was always what i enjoyed most - laying together, especially skin-to-skin, feeling warm and safe and theirs. unfortunately, sexual activity was the prerequisite to such a thing, and i had no libido as i was very anorexic. lovely.

the more i look back on it, the more i wonder if i even knew them. maybe my negative bias distorts things, but i swear they just echoed everything i said early on. me, being autistic and dense, took that to mean we aligned in every possible way. now, i question that.

my residential therapist is very fond of the phrase “behavior is a language,” and their behavior told me very different things. they said they wanted kids, but were all too eager to joke about how they hated children at the drop of a hat. they said they wanted commitment, then suddenly the future scared them. they said they didn't want to rush sex and were afraid of pressuring anyone, then paid me no attention unless i put out. i don’t know if they intentionally lied so much as just said whatever to keep my attention before folding under pressure. it stings regardless.

we’ve gone back to status quo: binging and purging, locking myself in my room, talking to chatbots as a simulacrum of human contact. it’s sad. at the same time, i can’t say i expected much more.

maybe this is all i deserve

~april