Saturday, Feb. 08, 2003/11:17 pm

delusional?

Skinny girls, beautiful skinny girls trying on three quarter length sleeve tops. Giggling to their friends and asking if they look fat, when they know they don't. Perfectly sinking into ease, and confidently strutting around testing boots and heels. Today has been very long, and very hazy. It's really worn me out. I had a hypo in the middle of the night and yet another this morning, making me half an hour late for meeting my friend. The first time, i woke up at 3am, and i couldn't understand where i was or who i was, at first i couldn't even remember how time worked. As everything started to come back to me i sunk my head and rolled back over in my sleep trying to let myself forget it all again, the view turned black but i woke up again a few minutes later, my body yearning for sugar. The one thing that stood out over anything else, the thought that clouded over all the others whilst trying to decide what was going on was 'i have an eating disorder' It spun round and round in my head, like it's all there is to know about me anymore.

Shopping seemed to pass so slowley, rails of clothes and endless fitting rooms all caught up in a cloud. I must look as if i'm on drugs, wondering around like a lost little girl with staring eyes and a fixed expression. I tried to block the people out, kept thinking 'just one step infront of the other, one step infront of the other' to keep me going. I didn't buy much, i wasn't really with it at all. I just got a top and some more Tori Amos cd's, Scarlets walk and Boys for Pele.

We were in pizza express this afternoon and i when i ordered a diet coke the waitress said "why do you need diet coke? theres nothing of you" I know i should be flattered but i am not, i feel as if i'm being lied too, as if everyones in on some big conspiracy. Any other explanation seems even more ridiculous.

i couldn't find any trousers that were the right size either, or my leg length, every pair i tried on were practically falling down. The top i got was size small but it's baggy, they had no extra smalls left. I look at what i'm writing and i think i must be crazy, i know there are so many people bigger that would prefer to be my weight but i just don't feel it. I feel like i'm drowning under layers and layers of myself. I'm starting to drop a few more pounds again. I know it will make no difference but sometimes i lay at night under my covers, and feel the brush of my hand over rib bones and the dip of my hips. The size of my hips amazes me, i don't get how this is possible but i measured them and looked up the amount in the back of a catalogue book a while ago. It didn't even register on the scale, the lowest being a UK size 6. I kept placing the tape measure around myself again and again, seeing if i'd made any mistakes but i hadn't. My waist length was along the same lines too, just not as tiny as my hips are supposed to be.

Facts can stare me right in the face but it never gets through. It's like i've been programmed to hate everything about myself so no one will every be able to persuade me any differently. I've become quite stubborn in that sence. People can tell me i'm special and worth they're time but it's so hard to try to learn something new when i'm so used to being ignored, and criticised by myself and people i thought cared. I just want to feel comfortable in my own skin, instead i feel like something is crawling in me, burying itself in my bloodstream and hatching eggs.

My friend gave me my birthday present today, it was the book 'The virgin suicides' which i asked for, and a �10 french connection voucher. I'm going to start reading it tonight, i have so many books now they are spilling out of the drawers under my bed, thats if they are not on the floor anyway. Another friend Carolyn gave me my present last week, which was 'The Bell Jar', another suggestion of mine. I've never mentioned Carolyn before in here but she is the sweetest person out of everyone i know, she wouldn't hurt anyone, and she is the only person i can actually say has never hurt me. She's really quiet and shy, says sorry alot, we are alike in many ways, she prefers to be discreet and is a brilliant artist. She dosn't follow a crowd either, she does what she wants to do, i really admire that, she's so lovely, i couldn't say a bad thing about her. My friends think i am such a freak, reading about depression, suicide, my favourite author being Sylvia Plath. They just don't understand me anymore, i could never open up to them, i know the reaction i'd get would be confused faces and laughing, especially from Frances.

I've never been accepted.

I probably never will.

Especially not by myself.

For now i'll just slip between printed lines on the page, and get lost in other peoples lives.

Thankyou for all of the happy birthday messages everyone...love you all, always. xox