Wednesday, Mar. 31, 2004/8:36 pm

frustration

The review went well, i convinced them, i got away with it. I sat with my hands in my lap, picking the skin around my finger-nails as they teased words out of me. Before leaving the house i coated my lashes with a sweep of mascara, sheened my chapped lips with pink candy gloss, and painted on a smile with magic ink. I said i was okay, everything was fine, the lies spilled out with ease, practised and used so many times before. Trying to swallow down my anxiety without choking on my deceit.

They said they they had discussed the option of a re-admission before i joined the room. After the worry of my last apointment with the diabetic nurse, yet after seeing me they agreed i was definately safe for now. Of course, i have gained weight, and i look better, rosier, less loose material gaping on my jeans, an extra notch let out on my belt. But, deep down i know that the primary reason for it was to please them. The fear of disapointing everyone woke me up, they were just getting too close, too close to uncovering the truth. The only way to keep hidden was to make a change, to create a stronger illusion of health, to convince them i don't need any futhur help. I held in several kilograms of water to manipulate the weight-check and make sure i would pass. Afterwards i headed straight to the toilets, to pee, and purge any of it that was still present in my stomach.

I have so many thoughts rushing around inside me. I felt cold and alone within those four walls, three judgmental faces directed towards me and Mum on my right. She covered up for me, i don't even think she realised how much so but she did. She said that i'd just had that one slip up before, and the reality is that since i left IP not even a week has passed without disruption. There's spilt liquid all over the floor.

There was alot of looking on into the next few months. They talked about eventually reaching a bmi of 19 or 20, and being recovered for the new start of college in September. I drifted away inside my mind, as they continued to discuss the future. I will be seen frequently from now, every two weeks. I have no idea what i'm going to do, how i'm going to keep on running. I'm plotting for furthur schemes, i just can't stop it.

I think, why not gain the weight? Atleast some of it, just to put an end to the apointments, get them all off my back, as far away as possible. Then, as soon as they are out of the way i can lose again, i can do it properly, without constantly being monitored. I could hold onto the purging, as secret relief, a reasurance that i still have an eating disorder, that it is still here with me. But then, i don't know if i can do that, i don't think i could cope, with the extra flesh, even if it was temporary.

Another motive is to end treatment all together, i know Mum wouldn't force me to go back, and i'm eighteen in Feburary. They wouldn't be able to see me fall, drop the pounds and waste away, they wouldn't have the chance to get near. Yet, i would feel so guilty, by letting everyone down again, it would seem as though i never tried. Atleast if i went the long way round, the back route, it could all be blamed on a lost struggle.

In all honesty, the problem is that i never see myself getting better. What ever i do, how ever many steps i take, i always know that i will be back here, ill and fading. I have been trying to find that balance, recently making progress and holding optimism, but i don't know what i am really doing it for. I just don't think it will ever be for myself. It's so pathetic, but i must cling to this sickness, even if it would be just a trace, i need it. I need it for safety, defense from the world around me.

As for food, today i have only kept down breakfast, rice krispies and milk, some of which probably surfaced in a later b/p. I have skipped my insulin this evening, i'm fed up of dropping low and fed up of being fat.

I'm fed up of myself all-together. Why can't i just make a decision and stick with it? Instead, i dodge the lines of obscurity and become confused with my own twisted ideas. I just want to scream at myself, shriek into these ears that pretend not to hear. Oh, just ignore me, i don't know what i'm talking about anymore. I'm such a selfish bitch.