I have been looking, at what i have written in the past two years, from my journals, here, etc. "God. I always have too much to say. I'm going to try to keep this short. Busy. Empty. Blank. I'm a mouse in a wheel; just running. Not oblivious to the fact that as I run I go nowhere. Yet I run. I heave and I struggle and I run and I watch as the scenery around me remains static like a painting. The only thing changing is me. Nothing stays the same. I am in constant flux. Yet things in my world do not change, despite the endless potential that exists in my atomic composition. I, We live in a world where each time we turn our heads we could find a new world, yet we continue to create our future based on what we have seen in our past. Stop it. Just stop. Get out of the wheel. Climb out of the little glass tank. Just stop it. Just kill yourself, Ashton. You are broken." That is powerful, and frankly, i am surprised at myself. Why? Because i am right. " I just need to stop complaining and whining so much. That is the real problem; the sniveling. I don’t need to be so sad. I’m not talking about ‘getting in touch with my feelings‘, or ‘learning to love myself’ or any other hollow clichés that we all try to act like we understand, and I’m not talking about recovery. I’m talking about doing whatever it is that I feel like I need to be doing, while asking less questions. Or just giving up entirely. I need to stop paying so much attention to my ED, basically. I need to stop staring at it, inspecting it, talking to it. I need to stop gripping its bony hand and telling myself it is helping me balance when I know deep down that it is only dragging me along. Jeez.. Just let go. Ash: Starve if you want to, starve and eat if that is what you really want to do, but either way just stop bitching about it! It really is not as big of a deal as I have made it to be. It is not the looming monster or wicked witch I have built in my head. Think about it: this is not going to kill me. I’m not deadly thin (and I’m not saying that doesn’t exist, or that certain other girls are not toying with death, I’m just saying my situation is not at that point) and my health is not failing me the way that Seventeen Magazine and Lifetime Network would have me believe. It can’t be, because there are many people thinner than me that are getting around just fine! Legions of other women who maintain rail-thin (even unnaturally thin) bodies intentionally are getting through life without constantly estimating when the end will come. If things were as bad for me as I make them out to be, the “Supermodel” would be an endangered species, dropping like flies and slumping dead off the runways of Milan and Paris. What I’m doing is not so bad. If it were, Calvin Klein would be the modern-day Hitler. This life may be unhealthy and unnatural, but so is Coca-Cola. So what I need to do is similar to what I’ve been doing most of my life; log off the wrong Ashton and on the right one. Swapping from Ashton to Ashton is easy because it has always been a fact of life for me. Melancholic, lonely Ashton needs to just shut the heck up for a while and let a more functional version ride shotgun. This is easier than it sounds, and no I’m not crazy… maybe I am. I’m not trying to claim that I’m several people; they are all me. I suppose it is like a Swiss Army Knife… A Swiss Army Knife is not any one thing which morphs. It is not a knife that changes to scissors, nor is it a pair of scissors with a screwdriver attached, etc. It is merely a vessel which holds various tools that can be easily chosen based on the individual task. Need scissors? You got scissors! Need a magnifying glass or a tiny toothpick? There you go! We all do this with our personality. Some of us do it consciously or unconsciously, and some of us do it inappropriately or rarely or in excess. i need to kill myself." Again, what has changed? This was written a year ago, and i feel the same. We go along, everyday, and nothing really changes. We get sad, and then we get happy again, but in the end, we are all the same. We will all end up in the same place. Sad. lonely. And who cares? All the hugs, all the kisses, all the false hopes. Where will they land us? Nowhere. I think i just need to get it over with. Thing is, i don't have the guts. I don't have the guts to put all of my effort into it, to take it and pull the trigger. I don't . I have tried. Several times, and it never, ever, works. I just found out that my ex bf died. He was not depressed. I lived with him for 4 months. He was a happy guy. The very first time he tried, he succeeded. I have tried so many times. He tried once, and succeeded. I need it more than he does, i have to go what the fuck is wrong with me?