I've been so busy. Rushing around, from my lessons, to the library, bus stops, crashing home and snatching hours of sleep during the daytime. The small pile of homework i have seems sky high. Expectations towering above me, and so i study, more and more, deeper and deeper, furthur and furthur away.

And yet i still find time to binge. To buy food, to nurse my complusion. Walking through the supermarket, basket in hand, weighing it down with item after item, finally at the checkout i am shocked by the total. But i pay anyway, and i don't add the weeks receipts up, i can't, it's just too painful. Best to throw them straight in the bin, pretend it never happened.

Locked safe inside my cardboard box, avoiding light, spying through pierced holes. Ugly on the outside, but even uglier underneath. Hidden.

There has been many more arguments and tears, alot involving Mum's boyfriend. Sunday night he came back after spending seven hours down the pub, completely out of his head drunk. He started on me, making not-so-subtle comments about throwing up, and how "atleast (he) pays his way, not like some other people". He told me to go to bed and i did, i couldn't argue, i sat on the stairs and listened while he continued on about how i'm always sticking my fingers down my throat. After long i couldn't take it anymore. I went to my room and i cried.

A few extra cuts are marked out across my arm. Actually, no, alot more, i tried to count and the number exceeded 30. Each time i pulled the razor across my skin i knew i deserved it, thinking -
'That's for being greedy.'
'That's for being selfish'
'For purging today.'
'For lieing.'
'For stealing.'
'For breathing.'
'For living.'

So many wrongs, i can never be right.

So many pieces i want to smash apart.

& I hate these words.

Take me away.