Wednesday, Nov. 26, 2003/9:59 pm

escape

Time has stopped. Abandoned in a colourless landscape, a black and white photograph that has faded through windowsill light. Bleak stilted air, trapped mist, lingering in trance, unmoved, not even the slightest breeze wavering by.

I stand motionless, ocupying shoes that aren't my own. Eyes surfaced in glass, tears captured as ice, unaware of where to look, where to search. Emotions bounded inside, tight against my ribcage, shivers of anxiety and sadness flood through my veins but are never allowed to leak.

I wear an identity bracelet with no name. A square of smooth, blank metal with sharp edges, attatched to a silver chain. I try to recall what should be written across it, picture a scrawl of calligraphy in my mind, but it leads to no answers. My hands are dry and weathered, bony tendons surrounded in unwanted flesh. I bury them in my pockets and keep my gaze towards the ground.

Through gaps in the pavestones, beyond the grass and cement, deep down, i see black. Burning tar, a stench of cigarrette smoke, thick gloom clogging clear breath, breeding destruction. Though not fearful, you could lay amongst it and never be found, wrapped under a heavy wool blanket, gagged with poison, a strange comfort.

I switch my glance up towards the sky, expecting to see a star or beam of hope, but there is nothing of the sort. Instead, a twisted landscape of garish colours, purple and red, green and mud, like the backdrop of an Edvard Munch painting.

Suddenly i notice the figures around me. Frozen in laughter, fury and pity. Each face lined with disapointment. Skinny fingers pointing straight at me, expressions extreme and severe. I stumble a few feeble words of apology but they cannot hear me.

I watch amazed as rain falls through the air, but cannot feel droplets against my skin. Yet a chill washes through me, a pass with cold, a pass with death. Lost, with nowhere to go.

--------------------------------------------------

I'm home,

and i really shouldn't be.

I haven't been let go, i've all but escaped. For now anyway.

Weekend leave was supposed to be set as Friday to Sunday, but i never went back.

Now i just feel like i'm running, waiting for my legs to give way or for them to catch me up.

Get away. Get away. Get out. Get out. Go.

They wouldn't have expected it. I don't give much away, just weak smiles and silence.

I'm scared. On each day since i've been back i've told myself that i won't binge or purge, that i'll try, try, try. Then i find myself near tears reaching for another packet of crisps or biscuit. I don't want to do it, i know it's wrong but i can't control it. Each turn of morning brings another battle. I have been taking my insulin though, which for me takes alot of courage. Knowing that it allows glucose and fat to reach my cells and add to my ever expanding weight.

I feel very unsafe, and guilty, guilty and selfish for letting people down.

Theres been a meeting set up for next Tuesday and i've been sent a 'time out' book to document anything i wish to. The last few days have been hectic. Phonecalls and threats, the reasoning and discussion with my mother, and angry voice of my father. The hospital advise that i really need to be back on the unit, but as i am physically stable at the moment, they cannot section me.

I know i'm not ready to be at home, but that aside, it's been so distressing on the ward recently. I've been so depressed. I just needed to get out, instead of starting to climb i've just carried on slipping.

I'm not sure what will happen from now on, i guess Tuesday will decide that.

Theres alot i could say but i won't, not just yet. not right now, i'm tired and have no idea where to begin. I'll end this here, explain the rest tommorrow.

Tommorrow is another chance,

another fight,

another loss.

leavemealoneleavemealoneleavemealone