Thursday, Jan. 01, 2004/11:08 pm

Happy new year

Another year gone by,

boxes that cannot be packed up or shelved away.

Gaping wounds that still won't stop weaping. Dying flowers and a wavering soul, whispering lighter with every blow.

Another year of pain,

and hurt,

bruised insides with a cracked exterior.

A struggling heart, drips and monitors, tests and examinations. 2 general hospital stays and an eating disorder unit admission, and what do i have to show for it?

This is me. Dry peeling knuckles, skin coated in white flakes. Hair shredding strands, only capable of gathering a 5p piece ponytail circumference. So bleak, so low, so desperate. Nothing left.

A failure,

a failure at recovery,

a failure at college,

a failure as a friend.

A let down to everyone else, and myself.

Useless and pathetic.

I backed out of my outpatients apointment on Monday, persuaded my Mum to make the excuse of flu. I couldn't do it, another session of being proded and poked for answers that i can't reveal. It's been re-sheduled for next Wednesday.

Last night i went to a new years eve party. Reluctant and aprehensive, the overplay of social intensity screening in my head. Coaxed with the promise of alcohol, a way to block it all out, and avoid being stuck at home, probably binging and purging as midnight struck. I felt lost amongst everyone else and very lonely. Crowded in a room with so many distant people, numbing the reality with vodka and cheap champagne. I wandered around muttering about being too fat, too huge, too much. I started crying and couldn't stop, pink eyeshadow and mascara slipping down my cheeks. In a moment of pure madness i tried to draw red with the sharp edge of my ring against my left wrist. I am deeply ashamed. I shouldn't have gone in the first place, it was sure to end in disaster.

I remember the chimes of last December 31st, slicing up my arms with smashed glass out in the street. I hid it well, the crimson soaked down my sleeves covered by another layer of clothing. I buried the secret, washed the blood from my fingers, the bathroom door handle and floor. Listening to the sounds of celebration outside, nobody realising i had gone. I've had the urge to go back there lately, watch myself pour away from self inflicted slits, but i have resisted. I haven't cut in a long time, one addiction i have managed to halt, hopefuly forever. For that i feel i've achieved something.

For this year i want to lose weight, but i also want to stay out of hospital, the first aim setting an obstacle for the second I'd like to reduce the binging, and become less anxious. Yet i know there is only one resolution worth making, one true resolution.

I need to get better.

I have to live to see 2005.