No words for so many

My mom is always telling me to be careful about what I write, but I don't care anymore. I don't care who will read this and exclaim, "Oh my, this girl has serious issues..", because they're just another person. We're all flawed. It's not like anyone really reads this anyway. I know of one person who does.
Sometimes I lay awake at night and cry. I cry about all the terrible mistakes I've made, and the many that are inevitable. I cry because I feel so desperate, so lost, so disgustingly pathetic. Some will argue otherwise, but I know in my heart of hearts (whatever that means) that it's true. I don't know where to begin.
The past year, minus summer, has been the best year of my life. I was with the kid of my dreams. I can't tell my mom that I still so desperately love him because I'm afraid of what she'll say. "Give it time, you're young, that was just a highschool relationship, he wasn't even a good person", etc., but she doesn't understand. He was so much more. He mean't so much more to me than a highschool relationship. What we went through together does not even qualify as that. Things that I cannot bring myself to write, or even say, for the matter.
so to be blunt, I love him to death. Moving on doesn't work. It's so painful to see how this summer unfolded. It was a wreck of me crying and abusing myself in any way possible. Now I'm crying as I recall striving to get him back. He didn't want to. He had to figure his life out. He told me my emotions were too much to handle, and that he could not make me happy. The truth is, he's the only thing that makes me happy.
Me unable to let go is a major contributor to my depression, which has steadily worsened over the past six to seven months. It's not just him that makes me hopeless, it is all the issues I deal with. And that nothingness. Sometimes I lack an explanation for my sadness. Those are the days when my body physically hurts and speaking is near impossible. I'm sorry to my family and friends that I can't be who they want me to on those days. I'm getting help now.
I hate smelling like puke after every meal. It's disgusting. And I hate the taste of food when it comes back up. I hate all the phlegm in my throat and the grittiness in my mouth. Sometimes it's in the shower, sometimes in the back field, but the majority is simply the toilet. I'm disgusting.
It's not even that I think I'm fat, it's that for two and a half years I've struggled with this and for a long time I've found the feat of recovering impossible. I do not think I am thin, nor beautiful, I'm afraid. It's difficult to articulate this fear and uncover it's origins. I suppose I fear if I do anything right, things will get worse. That's how it always is.
There are many more things I could write here. I could talk of losing friends, losing my hair, starting school, being stressed, the dreaded conversation I avoid. But I won't. Between the time I started this passage and now, my mood has steadily declined. All I know is that I'm crying, and now I must start the long ascent back to a state of stability.
All I can say is that things will get better. Because I force myself to hope.