Friday, Feb. 06, 2004/9:49 pm

conspiracy

All of these little white lies are building up to a great conspiracy.

Silently killing, weakening, and slipping, without the knowledge of even one person here.

I feel so guilty for the congratulations, the smiles and well dones. They may as well be applauding my success as a cheat. My blood sugar levels perfect on paper, a weight maintained consistantly, i walk in with my head held high and repeat the line 'i'm well' or 'okay.' Cue to bring out an artificial sparkle. But it's all crafted, made up to disguise the horrifying truth. I can't really believe how i'm getting away with it. It's gone so far now that i can't stop, turn around or plead mercy,

So many apointments this week, sending me spinning in circles. Being played by a ventriloquist, strings telling me how to move and what to say. My eating disorder always there to greet me on the other side, with yet another dash to the fridge then on to the toilet bowl. Drag the hair from my face, and be reminded of all i am living for. Wipe the vomit marks from the white sides, flush. Check for floating leftovers, spray deoderant and wash my hands. Then go and ask what were having for dinner.

I need a stronger prescripiton for my glasses because of the blurry eyesight. I'm also having another blood test next week to check my electrolytes.

Saw my Dad yesterday. He came down to give me my birthday card and a few cash notes. As soon as i got in the car he called me skinny and said 'i thought you'd be fat by now.' Then later proceeded to joke about how long it takes me to eat, which has been an on-going tease since he had a family meal with me in IP. Lectures about college and how neither me or Matthew turned out the way he wanted us to. I hate his sudden changes of mood. One minute he is placid and calm, the next angry or cruel. I will never forget the way he reacted when i told him i wasn't going back to the hospital. Shouting, swearing, vows that he would be onto his lawyer the next morning to sort out a section order. Blaming Mum for everything, insulting every side of her character. Even the cutting words that he never wanted to speak to me again. It took a while for him to simmer, and now he seems to have wiped every trace of it out of his memory. Though every word is still with me.

I'm filled with confusion, a struggle of will and a test of indurance. Recovery, seems to be a fleeting flirt, toyed with but disgarded. I am addicted to starvation, the pain of physical exhaustion and emotional bashing.

I need more but i want less. Searching for better but deserving nothing.

I can't break free of what i'm still holding onto.

Tommorrow will be hard, because i've wished on numerous dark nights this year, to not have to live to see seventeen. & i just don't want to be here anymore.