Thursday, Aug. 14, 2003/10:43 pm

no idea

Where do i start...where's the beginning, middle, end? Sat between worries, it's been what seems like ages. I keep putting it off but i can't any longer, i have truths i need to bleed.

I have always been a pushover, a doormat. Standing and waiting for the next face to pick me up and put me down. Recyclable, reusable, never once raising that hidden voice. Letting it happen again and again. Sometimes realising straight away, other times concluding afterwards, or completely denying and avoiding. I cannot stand up for myself. I can't defend the person that i detest. I don't have enough self dignity to tell the persecutor exactally what i think.

I don't aprove of cruel treatment, i hate it when i see bullies controlling innocent victims. Picking and tearing at their inner seams, damaging them for life. Yet i cannot see myself as equal. I am not a victim, i deserve every insult and every push. My friends cannot be expected to put up with this excuse for a person. In a sense i see that as a twisted view but cannot help but believe the message sent to me.

I think thats why i can't fight against this eating disorder. I can't thrash and scream my way out. I can't accept the offer of recovery when it is offered, because i have no idea how to try and remove the grip this has over me. I'm unable to see myself as an actual being, with worthwhile feelings. I am just a body, a body providing situation for this illness to live. An object for it to feed off of.

I know how frustating my words may be for my readers. You might want to shout at the screen and ask what the hell i am doing. This diary drags on for yards, yards of the same pale reasoning. Excuses and sharp reflections. Stalling in sadness. I am pathetic, i know that. Even with a button so near i do not press it.

I realised that i am scared of losing my creativity without this hell around me. What if i could not write without it? What would i ramble about across ripped paper? What would i surround myself with? Who would i be without such hurt pinning me here?

The apointment on Monday was successful, on my part. As successful as these sort of things go. I have managed to convince them that i am doing a bit better. As well as a back up statement from my Mum, she seems to think i've been making some progress. I'm being very careful with purging and making sure i am not caught out. I feel guilty for lieing and plotting but this is what i've got to do to breathe right now. They are starting me on an outpatients program with the option of ip available in the background if i suddenly need it, if i slope downhill. It's going to be a struggle to deter them from the inevitable. I know that i won't be improving, i'm losing weight again for start, having awful nights due to high blood sugars. I am going to have to step on the doctors scale every week as well as having regular meetings in London and counciling.

I had the blood test done, a needle in my arm filling four different capsules. The results came through this morning. They were described as 'very abnormal' They are extremely worried. I'm nervous that this might sway them to overlaying my act. They can probably figure it out anyway. There were so many questions on Monday, i think they were trying to blow my cover. My potassium is just about safe at 3.6, the cut off line is 3.5. Sodium was dangerously low, a consequence of mishandling my insulin and dehydration. It causes my struggled breathing, irregular heartbeat, painful muscle cramps etc. I was reading all about it and all of the symptoms i experience. My liver also isn't fucntioning properly, as well as other factors they are going to explain next Wednesday when i see them again. My norishment was in all, atrocious. I have to have another blood test on Tuesday.

It's quite a wake up call, to all the damage i am doing. Permanant damage, that could be with me till i die. Which could contribute to the last page of this tragedy being shut tight. Still, after replacing the phone handset after hearing from the doctor i started binging.

Still watching my insides swirl down the toilet on a regular basis.

Avoiding visits and text messages.

Dodging the bullets of communication.

I told my Dad i was getting my GCSE results next Thursday. He rang this morning to find out what i got in my A levels, after seeing the news items. I had to correct him. He doesn't listen to me, not many do. My fault for being so passive.

I feel like i'm running out of elements that keep me here.

I listen to my music, and i write my random sentences, and little sections of prose. Inking half sections of poems, reading favourite parts of my favourite books. Laying in my untidy bedroom, wanting to float away out the window on a cloud.

I'm completely disorientated, i wonder around practically asleep. I fall, i walk in swirls, in waves, i stare grey and teary. I posess a pulse without being alive. Alive means aware, and i am not. I am so far in the distance i cannot be seen, even by my own seaching eyes. I feel like it's smothering me whole, this black, tar black, coal black force. Bringing me so far into the ground i can't touch daylight anymore.

I can't find my feet,

or my mind.

I have no idea where i left it, because i have no idea where i have been.