I feel so disgusting today.
I ate dinner on top of all the lunch and the chocolate sundae I mentioned in the previous post. My total calorie intake today is 807. I'm writing this cross legged, and I can actually feel my rolls of fat rubbing against each other under my jumper. It's disgusting.

I'm really scared. I just cut my wrist.
I've never cut even close to my wrist before, I'm always scared I'll cut too deep and end up in hospital. I've been told that cutting across the wrist is a really great feeling, but I've always been too scared.
I barely cut deep at all, it bled more than it normally would, but I purposely did it way too shallow to do any damage.
I wasn't sure what would happen, I'm not suicidal, that wasn't my intention at all, but it was exciting not knowing what would happen.
Fuck that, it was fucking terrifying.
I don't even know what to do any more. I texted my ex-close friend just before I did it. He was my closest friend, he said he was in love with me, and he put up with me for so long. He was always there for me, he always listened to my problems, he would always meet me and said he would be there whenever I wanted to cut again. But recently he's just stopped texting me. I think it's because I slept at his, and rejected him when he tried to have sex with me. I hate him for that, he can't not talk to me because I won't sleep with him. If I meant anything to him he would stick by me. When I texted him earlier he just said he was in bed and I should text him tomorrow instead. I texted him at half eight. Who choses sleeping at half eight over talking to their closest friend? I almost rung him after I cut to tell him what he'd done to me, but I know he wouldn't care anyway. I wonder if anyone would even care if I had cut into the vein instead of just scratching at it like the pathetic shit I am?
My dad earlier said he didn't care about me. That my sister was the ill one, so why would he bother doing anything for me when there's nothing wrong with me? We've never exactly got on. Last week he told me he'd rather lose contact with me completely and never see me again once I've left home next year, than get help with his drug addiction. He openly admitted he prefers his drugs to me. I don't even know why I care about his opinions of me, just sometimes I wish he would actually give a shit about me.