I've had a good day, in general. I've been happy. I've been positive. I've felt good about myself.

But now I feel insanely guilty. I ate too much for dinner, too much fatty food. I feel ill and bloated and guilty and fat.

I'll exercise tomorrow. But it's hard to restrict when two out of three meals are being watched carefully. I just wish I looked better.

I have two years. Two years to sort myself out. Two years and then I can escape from prying eyes and people asking me how I am.

Part of me wants it. I want to leave home and be on my own, to skip meals, to cut, to overdose. I want to destroy myself. Living here hurts because I keep everything inside. Two years time and I can let it all out.

Part of my doesn't. I want to get better. I don't want