Wednesday, Feb. 12, 2003/4:45 pm

unsafe floorboards

It's been a tear soaked, torturing 24 hours but i am still here, my pulse is still pumping even if i do feel dead already.

I was in such a state last night. Immediatly after writing the last diary entry i went downstairs and started devouring 5 packets of crisps. I stood alone in the kitchen, looking up at the sky and just hoping for something to stop me, as i continued to stuff myself. Everyone else was in bed, i knew i couldn't purge in the house but i needed every last drop out. I put my shoes on and crept outside, it was about 12.30 freezing cold. I bent down into some wilting shrubs and heaved until i felt completely empty, my eyes still streaming fragile, glass beads. Aftewards i couldn't see properly, the view was swaying from side to side, i had no balance. I quickly made my way back inside to sit down, relieved that i had got rid of the food but shocked at how low things had fallen.

By this time the frustration within myself had grown to enormous heights. I tried to find some paracetemol, asprin, I wanted so desperatly to put a stop to everything. I didn't find any, but i swear if i hadn't i wouldn't be here right now, i had no doubt about swallowing my pain away. Right then, that moment, i just wanted to leave, become just a white figure with blue lips, leave no indents in the grass, but lie between the lillies.

I knew i had no razors, my brothers safe in his room so that wasn't an option either, i felt lost for things to do, i had no means for the sort of pain i wanted to see. I tried with a kitchen knife, a small one with a black handle, that we have had for five years atleast. I digged it in as far as i could but it brought no relief, it was old and quite blunt. Then i remembered the scissors that i had stolen from school, they wern't sharp either but i knew if i swiped the silver over myself, back and forth enough times, i would bleed. I felt so feeble, but started scraping my shin with the blades, hearing the metal gently graze the surface as white skin peeled away, redness started to appear. I gave up after a while, it had calmed me down, temporarily atleast, telling myself i would find something to make deeper cuts when i had the chance the next day. I turned out my light and eventually hit my head against the pillow, was awake for another half hour and in that time i was thinking about the cupboard downstairs and the possibilty my Mum might keep pills in there. I decided i would go down to check once i thought everyone would be asleep, i didn't want them to hear me. I then drifted off before i had time to carry out my plan. I was so exhausted.

Next thing i know, flashes of cloudy images, shouting and confusion are flooding over me. I am having yet another hypo, apparently it was really bad, i don't remember any of it, i never do. More bottles of sugary drink and a bowl of cereal later i am a bit better. I then slept for another two hours and dreamt that my cat could speak to me, very odd. When i wake up i remember the cereal and try to purge, but only small bits of it come back up. No school again, i am overwhelmed with actions from the night before. I go to check the cupboard i had been thinking about, there is a pack of perscription medication made out to my Mum, 20 capsules. I hold the pack in my hand for a while then carefuly replace them and shut the door. Thinking, atleast now i know where they are if i need them again. My leg is sore, and hurts more than i thought it would, i have a small ladder of inflamed red lines, and two just above my knee.

Things just get worse and worse.

Even if i feel steady for a while, i never really am, i'm forever standing on unsafe floorboards.

I always get brought back down.

Holding on has become such a struggle.

I can't climb back up the rope, i'm dangling over the edge.

Letting go would be so much easier.

I'll always be at risk, even if i try to convince myself i'm not.