81 notes "Choices, choices. So many means of self-destruction, so little time. I branched out. I expanded my horizons. Why be just bulimic when you can be fucked up every day in school without everyone ever noticing? Why not carry vodka in a mineral water bottle into choir and drink it between songs? Why not, since everyone seems to think you’re a slut anyway, just prove them right? Why not flirt and fuck around with strangers? Why not sleep with strangers who deal drugs, or who have a friend of a friend who deals drugs, and ask, pouting sexily (you’ve been practicing “sexy” in the mirror), if you can have some? Why not whine, Fair’s fair—? Brighten up happily when you get a Baggie full of pills or powder, pocket it, flounce out of the car, say, sweetly, “Thanks.” Walk the powder, pocket it, running your hand over your rumpled hair, thinking, I need a shower."
— Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia by Marya Hornbacher (via thechocolatebrigade)
