want to see how far down I can sink?

I have recently put together some pieces of the puzzle in my life: my mother is just like me.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day was filled with other people's get togethers.  And now I sit alone. My mother spends every waking minute with or talking to her boyfriend.  And apparently that includes Christmas as well.  My brother's with my father and their friends right now.  And I am... alone.  On the brightside, I've made a new discovery..

During Christmas Eve dinner (my mother's boyfriend, my brother, my mother, and myself) I realized the conversation between my mother and her boyfriend was quite interesting.  She acts like she doesn't eat that much.  And I think that illusion she gives her boyfriend is actually true.  I've been wondering how she's lost so much weight lately and I never really considered that she wasn't eating as much.  But it's true, she's eating less because she has a boyfriend.  But I don't blame her...  boys like small girls, no matter what.  Even if they try to tell us otherwise.

She is 118 lbs at 5'4'' and 48 years old.  She's a tiny woman.  I wish I was short like her.  5'6'' is a bit tall.  But I can live with it.  I am 108 lbs at 5'6'' and 16 years old.  I can be smaller.  When she was my age, she was 100 lbs.  And I will be the same.  I'll make sure of it.

The stress is getting to me.  I'm having small breakdowns in the quiet of my room.  I just have to keep them in the quiet of my room.  Can't let my mom's ill-decisions get to me.  Not in front of her anyways.  I've decided that I don't need her anymore and I don't care what she does.  That's why my life is called my life, not hers.  Not eating will satisfy my loss of control.  Something to be happy about as I watch the numbers get smaller and smaller on the scale.

I had my first drink earlier this week.  Went over to my friends house and she had a bottle of vodka in her drawer.  She didn't have very much and although she said it was enough to get her drunk, it did basically and absolutely nothing for me.  Just a weird taste.  We mixed it with orange juice and sprite because alone, I think it tastes like a bottle of perfume.  Next time I'll drink more.

I need to be like those girls in the next city over.  The city I live in is slightly poor, considering it's right next to an incredibly wealthy city.  And girls in wealthy neighborhoods are always...perfect.  They are all perfect.  And I will be like them.  They have perfect clothes, perfect bodies.  Small, petite, thin, bodies.  Small thighs.  Perfectly straightened hair.  Perfect makeup.  Perfect personalities.  Perfect friends.  Perfect boyfriends.  Perfect houses.  Perfect families.  Perfect hobbies and goals.  I need their perfect lives because mine is far from it.  I hate broken families...  it makes everything else so hard to be perfect.

The word "perfect" starts looking weird when you see it so many times...

I went shopping with my friend recently.  And I noticed something.  I don't know why I never noticed it before.  Stores that are more expensive have smaller jean sizes in abundance, and it's harder to find sizes 5 and up.  There are so many 00 and 0's.  In stores that are less expensive, there are many more larger sizes, and it's harder to find sizes like 1's, 0's, and 00's.  I find that interesting. 

Smiles let other people think we're fine.  When inside we're actually screaming our guts into a disgusting mess of emptiness.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qSgFCzGBjcg