Back To Square One

Being back home is werid.
There isnt anyone starring at me while i sleep.
No-one telling me that i am inches away from wasting away
No more looking into the terrified faces of the people i love
No more lying lifeless for days
No more drips and needles
Just pure freedom.

I feel like i'm trusted again. because being in hospital for four weeks must have had an effect on me that would change me. But the truth is, it hasn't.
I dont like seeing my friends and family in pain, but i dont like my fat reflection even more.
I'm now a Uk size 8 when before i went into hospital i was a size 4. or zero for you Americans readers.
The size of perfection in my eyes. well almost. But my body's not on my side clearly, spoiling my happiness by making me pass out.

So i'm taking things slow. only exercising at night while my parents are asleep. its too early to frighten them yet. i'll be back in the hospital before i can say im fine.

My shrink is an absolute idiot. shes a like a 50 year old hippy who believes that i dont have "inner peace". she really annoys me. i only have to see her for three more weeks mind, (thank god) because im putting on a real good show if i say so myself. My father thinks its too soon but, i can tell my mother hates me going to see her as much as i do. She wants to believe there's nothing wrong with me and going to see a shrink is making her worst fears become reality.

Also i got to say, my ex-twat-of-a-boyfriend visited me in hospital. He told me that seeing me like this turned him sick and that if i had any sense i would get better. So being already over emotional and not to mention extremely pissed of because i wanted to go home, i told the fucker that i was sorry for causing him such inconvenience and that he had no right to visit me after everything. (i dont know if i said, but hes now got a very ugly girlfriend whos two years younger than him) so then he had the cheek to tell me he still had feelings for me and that i was hurting him. at this point i was out of my bed ready to drop kick him in the head, but the nearby nurse came and told him to leave. lucky for him i was up to chucking him out of the window. afterwards he did send a text saying he was sorry, but i just ignored it. no way am i wasting my life on him.

So now i'm searching for a job. in McDonald's. Haaa. I think it will help with the facade that i'm better. "oh thats great, she's bound to want to eat working there" when in reality the food will truthfully put me off food even more. But nobody's realised that yet. I hope they never do.
I am looking for other jobs in other places but to be honest, McDonald's is the only one which looks hopeful.

I deleted my weight diary, i never wrote in it. i tend to use notebook i got anyway.
i am 120 right now, the word does actually hurt. but i wont be like this for long.
hope all my readers are well, and if you've actually read this entire post i want to congratulate you. sorry for ranting haa.

Peace out my lovelies xxxxxx