shit hit the fan.

we had a snow day, so me, mike, & kylie were all going to hang out and spend the night at mike's. i was fasting, and had ruined it by eating a bag of chips. so when mike picked us up, we stopped to get cigarettes at a gas station and i threw up in the bathroom. little did i know, mike had sent kylie in after me to make sure i didnt do exactly what i did. and shit hit the fan.

he was mad. really. fucking. mad. and the whole night was ruined. the next day, he broke up with me. "i can't be with you if you're doing this, pixie." were his exact words. he left me crying in the van.

after talking to his sister and crying for about 45 minutes, he gave me another chance. if i stopped, we could get back together. i promised him i wouldn't throw up forcefully ever again. and we're back together. but if i do it again, its game over.

now i don't know what to do. i'm 117 pounds, nowhere near my goal. but is this worth losing the love of my life?