This is an entry that I have been meaning to write for more than a month now, but I have not been able to find the courage. It will be a long one, so read on if you dare.

Anyone who has read my journal is familiar with the guy in my life. Well, things have changed.

In August, I finally decided to see my parents. I had not seen them since their failed intervention last year. It was one of the most difficult decisions I have ever faced, but I knew that it was what they needed more than anything. (My mother has told me that she wakes in the middle of the night fearing the phone will ring and she will learn of my death.) I knew that they needed to see me.

I knew that I couldnt go alone. I'm just not that brave, so I asked the boy to go with me. It was right after the last email I posted. Before I asked him though, I told him that he could walk. I told him that if he no longer wanted my burden, if he no longer wanted to be my friend, that he could walk away, and that I wouldnt hold it against him. I know that being my friend is a lot of work, and often times it feels like I don't give back the way a real friend should. He promised that he was coming because he wanted to, and he knew how much it meant to me and my parents. So he came.

We took two planes to get there, and he was himself the whole trip. We drank in the airports, my mind was reeling what with all those calories and the fact that I was on my way to see my folks. I hadn't been home since right before IP. All my friends remember me that way, emaciated. I wanted them to remember me like that and not see what I have become. But I went.

My mother cried when she saw me, my father held back his tears.

And with that, the boy changed. We were there for five days and he hardly said a word ( he is the kind of guy who is the life of the party and always the center of attention). I couldn't figure out what was going on with him. He was so quiet. He barely said a word when we went to see my friends, and spoke rarely to my parents and sister.

Finally, on the last night, we were in bed and I asked him if everything was ok.
He told me that it wasnt, but that he didnt want to talk about it until we were back in winnipeg. I told him that I couldnt deal with the stress of being home and having him so seemingly far away.
so with that, he told me.

He told me that he was done. That he could no longer deal with the stress of my 'illness', and that it just wasnt worth it anymore. I asked him what it was exactly that he wanted from me. I told him that i had been seeing a doctor and that I was trying new medication. I hadnt said anything because if it didnt work out again i didnt want him to be dissapointed in me. I told him that I was trying. He said, "its just not worth it, trying just isnt good enough"
with that, he went to sleep on the couch. I cried like I have never cried before. I went down to the dock and sat there until the sun came up. I was devastated.

We flew home the next day, he stayed at my house in the city that night, but on the couch. The next morning he called his brother for a ride to the country. He said "im going home" and walked out my front door.

That was the last time that he spoke to me. Those were the last words he said. That was almost three months ago.

He moved to alberta for school in september. He didnt let me say goodbye. I ended up out there a few weeks ago, at the same school, to see my best friend. He left town when he heard that I was coming. He made my friend call ahead when we went over to certain dorms so that he could leave before I got there.

I just dont understand. He's acting like he is so angry with me, and I dont know why. I cant think of what I could have done to make him hate me this way.

So many of our friends tell me that I should just forget him, that im better off with him out of my life. But i cant just forget him. Ive tried. I still cry everyday. I miss him more than anything. He was one of my best friends. We lived together for two years. I used to see him everyday, and now he has unceremoniously cut me from his life.

I just dont know how much longer I can live like this.

I started purging again. Im sticking to more than 250 cals a day, and most of that I bring up again anyways. Im on my treadmill a minimum of 3 hours a day.

They're worried about me at work again, but I dont care. Nothing really matters anymore. I have lost the one person who believed in me. The one person who stuck with me through all the hospitals, the doctors, everything. He was always there and he always saw me underneath. Now all he sees is someone who isnt worth saving, so why should I?

ema