Monday, Jun. 30, 2003/12:29 am

easier this way

A few days ago, my Mother supressed her grudge over this eating disorder assesment i have to go to. She was annoyed because it interfered with the start of her new job and she would have to take time off. This is obviously much more important that i am.

This evening, whilst sitting at the table, stabbing chips with spears and slicing chicken she asked 'are you still definatly going to this apointment?' I said i didn't know and stared into uncomfortable air, feeling like someone had just touched me with icy hands. She came forth with her opinion 'Well, i don't think you need it really, you look better...i don't think you've been throwing up or harming yourself lately.' I didn't know how to respond, thinking about recent close calls where she has acused me of purging. She seems to just wipe certain incidents from her memory, the ones she doesn't want to believe.

The words 'you look better' Swarmed straight to my center, making me flinch. It was a shock to have a comment like that hit me, following the overplayed sick concerns and glaces of disgust over my frail frame. I have been taking a little amount of insulin in the mornings recently, to take care of the extreme deyhdration i wake up with. I've been less pale, less clouded in moon shades, with some small clutch of energy. I feel guilty, i shouldn't be allowed this. I know i'm far from healthy, my vision is very blurry and i can find it a strruggle to hold myself at times. The idea of some sort of glow in my bare cheeks frightens the hell out of me. I prefer being sullen, low, wandering around, hair swirled like string, lips paused. Corpse dressed in floaty skirts and flower dotted scarves, sitting on bones.

I feel crowded and paranoid when people point and say i'm ill. It intimidates me and forces me to distant myself. Though, in mindset i can't deal with looking well either. I need evidence that i am hurting myself, i need to see the signs and the scars. i need to be assured i am doing something. That i am not just an ordinary person who eats normal meals. Destroying yourself seems useless if your getting nowhere, if all the layers are in tact. Mine are peeling but yet i do not want them to heal, not yet, not just yet. I told my Mum i haven't decided over the eating disorder assesment. I'm swaying over the water and i don't know whether to let myself fall, or ever be pushed, or instead attempt a leap for dry land.

I want to become a luminous line that dances through streets, mysterious and unattached, feet that spash in puddles without sound.

Stark concrete floor, squared deserted windows, wind screaming through stiff metal bars.
Scratching the blackboard walls with bitten nails.
Dry voices repeat bitter challenges over and over again.
Wails of mental rage and shatters of cracked glass.
Strangled between the binds of nightmares.

//Don't look outside anymore, it's too painful.
Put the boundaries higher. Can't wake up now, the chimes no longer ring, only birds whistle hints of concealed morning sun.
Black ash blocking your throat, smoke to the ceiling//

It's easier this way.
Lie stinging and crumbling.
I won't get out, i won't, it won't let me, i won't let myself.
Curse away my reach, it's just a cry to be ignored. Leave, leave me, turn away, this is my prediction.
Trample over my abandoned remains.