Wednesday, Apr. 21, 2004/4:21 pm

fleeting

My Mum and brother have just left for the supermarket. I didn't go, too embarassed over what i might ask for, it is sometimes the only place i venture out for, to stare at the produce, chocolate bars and cream cakes gleaming back at me from colourful packaging. I imagine the conversations that might be taking place at this moment. Maybe on the way in the car, or while filling the trolly with items that were bought just days before, only now to have disappeared. One of them could ask "where did all that cheese go?" or "did you have any of the muffins?" The other would reply 'no, not one" Then they'd give each other that knowing glance, the one that says 'we know whose to blame for that.'

Everyone is back to work now, after the Easter holidays, so i am left alone more frequently. It is 4 pm, and if you count the mere cleanses of orange segments and cups of tea, i have purged seven times already. Peanut butter sandwiches and bowls full of strawberry ice cream, whole sachets of angel delight and home cooked pasta with sauce. Yoghurts, custard, quiche... the list seems endless. All evidence is stashed deep down in the wheely bin outside. Carrier bags stuffed with wrappers, a soda bottle at the top, hiding what lies beneath.

Afterwards i always wait in haste, anticipation rising as someone enters the bathroom. Their steps stamping over my concience and against the tiled lino, hoping that there will be no pause or dissapointed mutter. Hoping that i have cleaned up well, hoping that they will not know. Yet even if they did, would it make any difference? Would it matter? What if Matthew stopped me on route through the hallway? - Confronted me with the truth that i am still ill, still being sick, slipping just too many times. Would i confess? No, i just couldn't. I would lie, hit back with hurt, scurry back to my room and shut the door behind me.

It is Frances's birthday today. I am going around to see her later. I've got her a present, and a card with the words 'best friends' typed above a cartoon sketch of two smiling girls. One blonde, and one with purple hair for some reason :) I hope she likes it all. When i asked her if i could come over, she said i was the only person who didn't need an invite. A rare reach from her that made me feel all warm inside. We've known each other for so long, since nursery, and god i miss her.

Theres more i wanted to write but i've lost it. The fleeting streak of wisdom has burnt out. It's raining, pouring outside, trees are drenched and pavements are filling with puddles. The window infront of me is steamed and sprinkled with water.

I want to escape, but the safety route leads right back to my torture chamber. The darkness that holds me, and soothes me to slumber. With the promise that i am getting all the pain that i should.