Pulling my wrists over splintered wood, sharp points piercing skin. Footsteps trailed through stinging nettles. Bare soles that split as i walk over cut ice. Blood against glass, covered in bruises and so many wounds. Still, i keep going, pulling myself along. Every breath, every step, hurts. Every lie hurts even more.

I'm spinning, it's moving too fast and i fear being lost in the overload. I'm forever trying to stop myself from sinking.

Each college day is the same. I wake up, heavy with exhaustion, the taste of ketones on my breath, drag myself from beneath the covers and towards the scales. Somehow, i manage to get dressed, tend to my hair, make-up, clothes, and walk to the bus stop. I'm regularly close to falling asleep on the way there, my eyes fluttering shut.

I've been trying to catch up on my sleep tonight but it's useless. My brother has just bought a new sound system, and he won't turn the bass down. My head is pounding along with the music.

Coco has been ill, my poor cat. She's home today, but had been at the vets since Sunday. She had a serious infection that spread to her liver, was wired to a drip and on strong anti-biotics. They are unsure of the cause, but i'm just so relieved she's okay. I was so worried, she's such a delicate little soul.

& I'm so scared for Gwen, scared that she is losing hope. Sweetheart, please hold on. We have to get through this, you mean the world to me, and i can't imagine being without you.

Tommorrow i have an early start, my alarm will sound at 6.45. I wish i didn't have to go. But i do, and i will. I just have to keep moving and make sure i don't keel over. Try to speak and appear normal if i possibley can.

My weights been the same for a while, about 74-75. I want to be smaller but i'm wary, of draining my energy source down to nill, i'm practically running on empty already. Eating and purging just as often as before, food a constant fixture, my everything.

I think about giving up, as my thoughts float across the room, inside noise drowning out the teachers voice. An image of falling onto my knees, hitting the ground, dissolving beneath this weakness. Admitting i can't do it.

Letting go would be an escape.