Friday, Apr. 25, 2003/11:37 pm

All that i shouldn't be

Purging is painful at the moment. Still having chest and stomach pains, that flare up particually after bathroom surrender. Blood stains the toilet bowl, as red as red can be. You think i would have learnt something. That i would have taken a long, hard look at myself and decided i need to get out of all of this. But no, i'm too sickened to concentrate on who i have become, to frightened of the image in the mirror. To disgusted to reason with the monster i am, the monster i have turned myself into.

Food has no chance to rest, in then out is the way it goes. Covering my fingernails in glutton. One more packet of crisps, biscuit, bowl of ice-cream. Just one more.

Always looking for the full stop, but all i can find is a comma.

Even that has slipped away from me.

I'm gently slumping from one devestation to another.

Stuck in mud, that sticks like glue. Self adhesive entrapment.

A gun in my pocket,

Pressing against my skin.

Just need to reach the tigger and pull.

One pull.

Then it will all be.

Over.

For good.

Swarms of bees hold me tight within stinging oblivion.

Rose petal leaves pass over me into the hairs of maidens. Maidens that walk along the yellow brick road, and sit amongst daisies and buttecups. Glittered eyelids, nails painted with sunlight.

An adverse look, a sign of stength from you to me. Sends me into a cocoon of darkness. That you will never be able to find. Within either of us.

My mother told me that if i throw up again she would down her sleeping pills.I stared, shocked. Then i burst apart, my seams ripped down and i screamed and shaked. Hysterical is the word. Blackmail wounds. She stook there and said nothing more. I said sorry, and sorry, and sorry and 'how can you say that?!!' I wanted to cut and i wanted to cut because i knew i had hurt people i don't, never did want to hurt. I have purged since and everytime i've felt a stab of anger and betrayl. Asthough i am the evilest person that lives. I do not deserve to live. I do not deserve anything, any love, any comfort.

Not even one drop of water.

She also said she'd give me �100 pounds of her redundancy money if i gain weight. Why do my parents think they can buy me? I swayed my head from side to side and said no over and over so she knew. My Dad is the same, actually he is worse, much worse. On each distant visit he hands over cash to replace the father figure that fled long ago, just so we won't start complaining. Not as if i ever would, i am in no place to complain.

I am wasting all that has been given to me.

Sweep leaves over my body.

Forget i ever passed through.

Sticky hand prints upon furniture.

Stale ciggerrette air.

Wrappers stashed down the side of my bed, in draws, in bags,

Empty cereal boxes and milk cartons.

Nobody needs this. Nobody wants this.

Nobody should have to deal with this, none of it.

Just let it happen,

piece,

by,

piece (slice)

Moonbeams sleeping.

A crucifix necklace, and my coloured beads.

Sour mints.

White hands.

Sifting thoughts.

And i still don't know what to do.

Or where to go/to turn/to run/to stop.

Which direction is home?

When i know,

i'll tell you.

Until then,

i'll continue,

to fade from view.

Stranger into the gloom.