Sunday, Nov. 17, 2002/12:05 am

low

I'm sitting glumly at my computer, the sound of the tv distantly playing in the background, feeling washed out and utterly disgusted. The desk is littered with wrappers, a yoghurt pot, the smell of sick is constant, and i can't scrub it away. The bathroom door is open, i can see the scales i placed carefully in the middle, ready to weigh myself before and after purging. Like usual, i am the only person home as it's saturday night, no one will be back till tommorrow, i've been binging all day, 8 purges, i'm so lonely. Downstairs is a mess, the kitchen and sitting room left with plates, and bowls once filled with food. I am shaking, my eyes half shut, being weighed down by exhaustion but unable to let myself sleep.

I think about ringing one of my friends, for someone to talk to, but i know i can't, it will just end up a pointless conversation, talking about things that don't matter, things that mean nothing to me, i wouldn't be able to tell them what i'm really feeling. This is drowning me, i don't know how it got so bad, how i got here, how this depression got in to me, and burned my insides so deep i can't function properly anymore. It would be such a break, for a day, just to be able to walk free from these chains, to be able to breathe, and laugh and smile, without feeling the stab of this pain thats killing me.

I need a hug, i need it so badley but there is no one, sometimes i wish that someone would grasp my hand, tighly, so i know they will always be here, and lead me away from everything. I'm so down and empty, but still i continue to push everyone away, so scared of letting people see me in this dark light, seperating myself furthur and furthur, running, them unbothered and almost oblivious. I'm here, alone, with my blades, my scars and this sadness and it's all my fault. Continuing to destroy myself, unwilling to try to stop it, hoping one day i'll bleed so hard i'll never have to face this again.