Guess where I'm writing from?

 An inpatient program for eating disorders. I've been living here for over 2 weeks.

And in all honesty?

I couldn't have done a better fucking thing.

I would have been dead in a few days if i hadn't gone.

I'm in recovery. I've saved some lives and watched some end.

But I couldn't have done a better fucking thing.

for the first time in my life, I'm alive.

If I back down, I'll be dead by next week.

Everyone knows it.

Inpatient, first thing thursday morning...i can't believe i'm going through with this.

But I want to live. I can't do this anymore. It's too hard. I'm dying and everyone knows it. I can't walk four feet to get something, I can't barely stand up, blood is coming out of places that blood shouldn't come out of,

People've been fucking me over and leaving me because I'm unhealthy. Right? Well, I'm not angry. I'm just thankful that I know who's really here for me now.

Today's been the craziest fucking day of my life.

I can't explain it, but there's so many weird ass signs that are just popping up and saying get the fuck better.

Reasons for jeffy not to go on like this:

I'm putting everyone through hell.
I'm treating everyone like shit.
I'm physically dying.
Add emotionally to that equation as well.
If I don't do something, I'm going to die in a few days.
According to the doctor, I'm over 20 pounds underweight.
Newfound anemic.
Missing part of a kidney (what the fuck?)
Losing clumps of hair.
There's a bunch of holes in my esophogus so now if i can ever eat again,
it'll be through a tube in my throat.
Stomach lining?
Gone.
Stomach ulcers?
There.
Gray skin.
Random people ask my friends if I'm doing alright because
i look "Dead."
Everyone. Says. I. Look. Dead.
If I wasn't to get better, and if this fucking disorder weren't to take my life,
I'd blast my brains out through the back of my motherfucking neck.
I'd stick that gun so far down my throat that my shitty broken esophogus would scream bloody murder.
My skull would shatter so far that the motherfuckers in Nevada would die from being blasted by
my shards of shitty rotting bones.
I'm not happy.
I'm not happy.
I'm not happy.
I'm so miserable.
I physically am unable to wake up in the morning.
I've always spit every three seconds, and now every three seconds,
I spit out pure blood.
Every time.
Covered in bruises from being hit by the air.
Someone threw a sandwich on the front porch of my friend's house where I'm staying
With the note written on the bun, "EAT A SANDWICH."
Completely eligable for heart failure.

REASONS TO MOVE FAR, FAR AWAY FROM THIS TOWN:

Heroin addict;
get away from dope.
"Dating" (prostituting) out to a drug dealer
For free dope.
Reputation:
I've had people come up to me saying I'm the definition of
The scum of the town.
"Some people have eating problems,
some people have drug addictions,
and there's some prostitutes and yeah, sucks for them,
and there's some homeless guys,
and there's some gay kids,
and some kids have ridiculous mental problems,
but Jeff, you have it all. It's not healthy to be around you.
Sorry. It's better this way....i guess i just realized i want to be happy.
I'm healthy now...I'm happy now."
That's word for word what kasey sent me when she decided she would do better off without me.

That's what it's like.

When people say those things to you...do you know what it feels like?

"You take everything to the extreme. You didn't get kicked out by your roommates,
you were evicted and you were too doped up to realize the extreme difference between the two.
Your ALWAYS fucked up and you've become a completely different person.
your my friend and all but it's too much. I'm not gonna sit back and watch you fucking die."

-love, Daniel.

Yeah yeah, text fights. Lame, I know. Then again, I'm definately a leper. No sarcasm. I rank myself lower than a leper, currently.

Me and Kasey will never be okay again, unfortunately. But more importantly, after dan said that to me, I wrote him the most pathetic note in the entire world. To sum it up, it was basically a page of me apologizing for my existance. The most pathetic part?

I meant every word of it from the very depths of my heart. I kindly and pathetically told him I valued our friendship while it lasted, apologized eleven or so more times and stamped a big fat Love, Jeffy Mayer on it.

Random fact: I hate my name so much. It's actually Jeffy on my birth certificate, not jeffrey. White trash scum fucking parents.

Just had to get that out.

Since I'm leaving 8:00 AM sharp this thursday morning (one fucking day. shit. shit. shit.) I visited everyone at my good ol' highschool, which I recently dropped out of, after school. I gave the note to my friend christine today cause I saw her at wawa, and kindly asked her to transport it to daniel.

So of course, I see Dan having a cigarette. He calls my name and waves me over and walks away from everyone. Uh oh. Private talk.

So I walk up to him. He asks me if I'm sober. I'm standing the same way a five year old girl would stand if she was naked and about to be molested by her step pop-pop who makes her call him Big Popsicle, with my arms wrapped around me. And I slowly and smally nod.

He goes on a rant about how he doesn't want me on dope, I think he's gonna hook me in the schnoz, I kind of sink into the ground, and he freezes and asks me, "Are you gonna get better?"

I nod again, looking even more like a stupid fucking little girl.

And suddenly, I'm being embraced by my painfully straight, strongly against man-hugs ex-best friend. Probably the most emotional hug I've ever gotten because for the first time in years I think I almost might have started to kind of want to cry.

Almost. Good enough.

And it sounds stupid but the fact that he forgave me for everything I put him through;

as I walked away, the thing he called out was, "Stay my friend!"

He forgave me. Out of all the people, eh?

There's some other little emotional boring loveforgivelove stories but I don't feel like typing that shit out.

My entire point for this stupid pointless ass-draggy way too much information entry is:

I'm fucking terrified.
But I want to get better.
I WANT TO BE HAPPY.
I can't put these people through this anymore.
I can't do this anymore.

I'm going to inpatient, motherfuckers.

Imagine that.

Yeah. I'm mortified. I'm terrified. I'm horrified. I might throw up my lungs when I wake up thursday.

But I'm fucking going to inpatient. I'm going to recover.

In a few months, if I write another shitty entry, that means I'm still alive.

And if one day, if one of these crazy fucking days I'm recovered, and if I'm still alive....

Well holy shit. If I recover...

holy teeth of satan, anyone can.

Hang in there.

Fuck it, I'm gonna live. I swear to shit I'll be okay one day.

Jeffy Mayer finally got the balls to go to inpatient.

I promise I'll be better. there's always hope. ugh. godspeed to myself.

Fucking crazy.

Oppurtunity is screaming in my face. Will I take it?

Suspense.

As for now, I'm attempting to enjoy the rest of my jersey days; it's not exactly working. But at least I'm realizing who my real friends are nowadays.

I'll be leaving behind so much...but think about how much I'd gain, if i wasn't fucking like this.

I don't want to be like this anymore. No one wants to be like this.

The only difference there is now is that there's some hope. It's only a speck, it's only the size of an atom on a rodent's ass but for shit's sake, it's better than nothing.

To think there might be a chance for me to not be like this is probably the only thing keeping me alive right now. I don't want to be this dirty-business greasey asswipe anymore, I don't want to do the things I do, live the way I live. No one wants this. This isn't the life that anyone wants.

So why the fuck would I continue on this way? Everyone knows I'm gonna die if I do.

This is a mind-fuck. Still have loads of shit to think about.

Oh well. At least something might change.

Fuck.

Oh my god.

I think I'm moving to florida.

AH.

Stress.

You wouldn't believe the past 2 weeks or more of my life. You wouldn't fucking believe it.

I shouldn't even explain.

But things are so bad here that there's no way I can recover. See here, I left my town for awhile and got caught up in some crazy shit. As soon as I got back?

JEFFY GOT AN INTERVENTION!

Aren't I a loser. Aren't I a fucking loser. An intervention. A motherfucking intervention.

Really, I woke up after the first day I got back (my roommates kicked me out for awhile but they then deeply apologized and begged me to come back so I finally did) and I go out into the main room.

Sure enough, there's about fifteen fucking people in there, isn't that just peachy?

Each of them took turns talking about what was wrong with me and why I NEED to get better.

See here, this past month, along with dealing with this eating disorder, I relapsed in my ol' heroin addiction.

Don't get me wrong, I dropped that shit again thank god, that's why I'm back home.

But yeah, some people were crying, others got on their knees, some left the room whilst holding back tears-

not a pretty sight.

Yeah, I feel like shit here. All I'm doing is making everyone sad. All I'm doing is taking advantage of people, fucking everyone over, I'm a broke jobless loserfuck mooch and I'm basically a burden to everyone I know, to sum it up.

So I had a serious talk with Kasey. She said that her and some of my other really close friends were talking, and they think I should move out to Florida and go to a recovery center-

inpatient.

That terrible word. Yeah, those of you out there in my position, you know what the word inpatient means. You know all the nerves that damn fucking word strikes, the way it makes you want to rip your face off when someone says it-

not a good thing.

But it is a good thing in the long run. I mean. Fucking Kasey and Lauren and a couple others, they said they'd pay for as much of it as they could. They said they didn't care what I said, they didn't care how much money they'd have to put out, even if they'd never see me again after I move.

But they said I'd never get better here.

And I'd have to agree. I won't get better here. Not in this town. Not in this state.

See here, when you reach a certain point in your weight, and when you have to gain weight in order to live...

Well, okay. It's hard to explain. Basically, the only thing keeping me from inpatient now (money was the issue before-even though i would have never gone if i had the money at that point) is the concept of dissappearing for awhile then coming back fatter.

Not my forte, let me tell you that.

But think about it. Going to a hospital, getting stabilized, then moving to a recovery center and living there, in florida...

See, my sister lives out there, she's 2 years sober and doing fucking fantastic. We're really close too, I mean, Kasey called my sister and talked to her about it (behind my back of course) and she completely agrees. She wants me to come live by her.

I'd be moving to Boca Raton...which is where I've always wanted to end up anyways, ironically enough. So this is my dream...

But is my dream to get better?

I don't know. I know for a fact that if I keep going on like this, I'm definately going to die. Whether it be medical reasons, organ failure or suicide, I'm surely going to die if I don't do something.

It's a residential program, you know. You live there after you've been stablized at a hospital.

God. It's just so hard. I don't know what to do. Everything is all jumbled up in my fucked up mind and I don't know what to do. I'm more open to the IDEA of inpatient...BUT. I still can't go yet. I can't mentally get to the point where I want to get better, yet.

I'd be leaving behind so much. So much shit that I hate, but still, i only love a little bit here, but that little bit is the only shit i got. So what will i have.

I just wish I'd randomly run into some random soul on the streets, a random soul that just so happens to be an eating disorder fuckhead, but a RECOVERED eating disorder fuckhead. Someone wise, someone who's been through it all and more, someone who's been in a position somewhat like mine. And I wish they'd just tell me everything they went through, and I hope to god that the conversation ends with them talking about how much happier they are now and how life is so much better when your not active in an eating disorder.

Because in the name of satan, I can't keep going like this.

My heart's being torn apart everyday by all my friends, coming up to me, looking like they're about to burst into tears any moment, begging me to get better.

I had several of my friends come up to me today and say, "What's with you lately? Your not even you anymore."

They all say that. They all say that, I swear to god they all say that.

And the thing is, I don't want to just up and leave them after all they've done for me...I feel like such a dick.

It's like I'm saying to them, "Alright. I'm gonna fuck all of you over, make your lives hell, get really fucked up and leave and never come back. Nice knowing you."

I can't...do that to them.

They all said that they don't care. That the best thing I could do is get better. That they don't care how I'm treating them, all they want is to come visit me and see me "healthy and smiling", as they put it.

I'm just thankful that there's actually people here for me now. I mean, it took a lot for them to actually step up. But I guess I'm just to the point now where they feel the need to...help or something, i don't know.

I'm so exhausted. You wouldn't believe the past 2 weeks, you wouldn't fucking believe.

Wow, my life is a giant stressball right now. Haha I'm such a pussy complaining about this shit. So many other people are SO much worse off. Egotistical, selfish, and a fucking bum.

I suck. I have so much to think about.

Help.

Fake trackmarks, hives, mysterious missing organs, 3 pounds from death.

That's right, ladies and gents. Lauren kidnapped me today and said she was bringing me to meet her friend "Lee."

The bitch brought me to a damn medical center.

"I just want to see how your doing. You look like you weigh 2 pounds."

2 more pounds I should lose, no?

No, instead to her I said, "You know how I'm doing."

"Okay, well you need to see how the fuck your doing."

Stupid nurse bitch weighs me, shakes her head, SHAKES HER HEAD. We wait in a shitty room with fucking sesame street ABC shit wallpaper and fake jars of "boogers, toenails and earwax". There were no more normal rooms left so I got stuck in there. It's a ghetto ass little place, all the nurses are giant black women with fake red nails and perms clipped back in plastic faux-gold clips.

Yeah, fuck my life. So some bitch comes in and tells me that if I lose 3 more pounds, I'm going to die. Too specific for my taste, or for me to believe her. I'm aware that my health's not so hot, and I'm aware that it's a miracle I'm still alive. So why am I here?

Well she said some shit about inpatient 20 times and I basically just covered my ears and screamed (that was a metaphor or whatever. didn't really do that.)

Some overly large nurse proceeds to take my blood, missing my shitty little veins about 56 times, and now it looks like I'm a desperate dopehead that sucks with aim.

I died a little today, after that experience. Whole damn car ride home, Lauren ranted about how this should've been a wake-up call for me to get better.

God, I wish I could get better.

I mean, it's not like I want to be like this. You see all these little girls posting "thinspo" all over godknowswhat and other little girls screaming I CAN'T WAIT TO LOOK LIKE THIS MEMEMEMAGLDFG.

"Today, I ate 378 calories and only got to run 129 calories off. I'm not fucking eating tomorrow. So I can look like this."

*insert picture of Nicole Richie or random scene bitch here*

ENOUGH OF THIS. Enough of pro fucking bulimia and pro fucking anorexia. It looks so fucking great when your not going through it. I was one of those faggots for the longest time but god, I'm just too miserable now. All I do is take advantage of people, no one wants to be around me, people look at me like I'm a freak, and maybe it's more socially acceptable when a girl has some eating issue but it's still just too fucked up.

I mean, yeah. Maybe that's why people are freaked the fuck out by me, because I'm a guy with this stupid shit. But either way, once anyone gets down there, no one wants to be around you.

Really, there's nothing left for me to grab onto. Everyone left because I treat everyone like shit and I'm gonna die pretty damn soon. I just wish that people would realize that none of this shit is glamorous. It's absolutely disgusting.

No matter what weight you reach you'll never be fucking happy. You have to have something to hold on to other than your damn bones, and that'll never happen for me but it can happen for anyone else, as long as they haven't pushed everyone in the shitter already like I did.

I regret all of it. I wish I could live again. I really wish I could.

But fuck it, I'll just smoke a cigarette, drown my brain with rum and see how long I can go before I drop dead. Seems like the only thing I can do at this point. Aye matey.