Thursday, May. 01, 2003/10:06 pm

i need help

I need help.

I admit it.

I need it now more than ever.

My eyes are swollen and puffy from all the crying. I've spent hours sobbing into my sheets just because. No apparent reason. My body feels as if it's charged with an electric current. My sence of touch is glossed with a pins and needles like sensation. I keep dropping things, this is happening regularly now, especially in the mornings. I never know what i'm really doing.

Hysteria has taken it's toll over me in the last few days. My emotions change so quickly, i don't know what i'm going to be like the next minute. I was trying to open a carton of soup yesterday and ended up spilling it everywhere. Half of it gone, and covered in ministrone i just stood there, shaking, no idea where to start cleaning it up. Then the most unexpected punch of tears hit me.

I'm in such a state. Catching a look at myself i can see it's so obvious. My hair is so thin, cheeks sunken. My face constanty white, or grey, yellow, purple, blue but never skin coloured. The last time i had a period could have been over a year ago for all i know. I think it may be even more than that. The occasion has been erased from disk.

I am locking myself away in exile, i want to stay in my room forever. I have to force myself to see people and when i do i just want to be back at home in bed. I'm sleeping so much, feeling so exhausted all the time. It never used to be this bad, i can't stand up without feeling like i need to lay down again.

I live to feed my addiction. My eating disorder. Whatever that may be. Bulimia, anorexia, purging anorexic, diabulimia, all of them? I'm confused about what i am, what this is. I don't fit the cryteria for bulimia.

Everyday is the same.

Wake up. Drag myself up, dizzy and thirsty.

Decide what to eat.

Cook, prepare, fill the bin up with containers and wrappers.

Eat. Purge. Whilst watching trashy daytime televison like 'This morning' where they tend to talk about diets, fashion and cooking.

Wash up, clean the bathroom up, wipe away any puke marks.

Put the bin out, hide remains of parts of the binge so to not let people know what i've actually eaten in full.

Lay down, rest, sleep. Tick appropriate option according to how tired i am.

Wait for my Mum and brother to arrive home and hope they don't notice anythings wrong.

Throughout the evening, more eating, more throwing up. The checkered floor beneath my feet. Running water, burst blood vessels, hot flushes. All for punishment.

It's my only purpose. The one thing i can hold tightly. No routes lead away from this toxic state of mind.

I'm missing out on so many things because of this illness. It has stolen so many experiences from me, and i have let it take them. I am not going on the School end of term Paris trip, to Euro Disney because i am not well enough, and i know i wouldn't be able to eat sensibly whilst there. Even the prom will be a nightmare now. Trying to find a dress that fits, and one to hide scars and burns. Our year books are being handed out at school tommorrow, and were allowed to move around tutor groups getting them signed by everyone. I wanted to try and make it up there for an hour or so but to be honest i think i'm too weak to make the walk up the hill without collapsing. I may attempt it, but probably not. Maybe Monday instead. I am too paranoid of the stares, the looks baring into my bones. Squeezing my arms, asking why i was in hospital. My uniform doesn't even just hang off me anymore, the trousers are actually in caution of completly falling down. I'd need a good, disguisable belt if i was to put them on again. I can't stand people near me, i can't bear the thought of my grostesque body being looked at and whispered about.

I keep waiting for a phonecall from the diabetic clinic, or eating specialists or anyone like that. It hasn't come. I knew i had to do something, anything, say a few words, before i'm not here to speak them anymore.

I told my Mum i was worried that the apointment i have is too long away. That i cannot cope until then. She said she would ring the doctors surgery and get my GP to see me soon. So we can try to speed things up. She's angry that they discharged me from hospital so early and i've not been to outpatients or heard anymore from them.

If they refer me to councilors i'll go.

If they refer me to anywhere i will go. Possibly exluding stay in clinics, i just couldn't go through that again.

I realise that i'm going to have to let them try.

I am useless to myself, useless on my own. The only form of help i'm aware of is hacking away at my limbs to let go of pain.

I'll have to keep on wishing for a miracle.

Rocking against the wall.

And calling for your name.

I'm hoping,

just hoping,

An angel will be passing by.

See me with my thorns.

Plastered into veins.

Take my hand from my pockets.

Then swiftly lift me away.