Living for myself.

I took a few days (well, I was forced to take a few days), went to the family lake house, and contemplated.

While I pondered the meaning of life, and why he hasn't talked to me in two weeks, and stayed up until four in the morning, simply because I couldn't fall asleep, I came to a conclusion as to why it's been so difficult for me to get back into the swing of starving (p.s., I didn't come to this conclusion by myself. I had a little help from a post by OhMyGosh).

For all my seventeen years, I've been living simply for myself.
My binges were for me.
My starvation was for me.

For eight weeks this summer, I didn't live for me.
I lived for five to six kids per week.
I lived for all the boys and girls cabins that came through Nature to spend time hiking and playing games and finding creatures in the stream.
I lived for the other counselors, who quickly became some of my best friends.


And now that I'm back at home, I'm struggling to figure out who to live for.






Okay, okay, okay, I realize that sounds like I'm some depressed, suicidal kid.
I swear, I'm not. :]

Because now that I don't have to live for them, I'm living for me in the ways that I used to, before starving became my way of living for me.


(That means by eating. A lot.)





So excuse me while I go finish the ice cream that's in the freezer. And whatever else we have that's delicious.



And tomorrow, maybe I'll start living properly again.