I want to be held, in a long embrace of foggy tears and emotion. A soft hand secured around my waist, delicate fingers brushing thin strands of hair from wet cheeks. Someone to create a coloured pocket through my darkened thoughts. A rain droplet sending ripples through this deep, murky sea of lonliness. The air is so bleak and i am so cold, how can i ever expect to be loved?

I'm standing in the storm, feet chilled to the ground, holding these flowers for you. I wait, and wait, the seconds tick on and you do not come, but i stay. Just incase.

I should be okay. But if i dare to admit the truth i am not.

I made it to college for everyday in the last week, missed just two of my lessons. I am still very behind and finding it difficult to concentrate. Yet i sit there, and i watch, i take the notes and try my hardest to make conversation with those surrounding me. They can never tell, that i am pulling the words up from my throat, choking on the filth and stupidity. After every sentence i am anxious for reaction or response, desperate to be liked and accepted.

Drowning,
deeper and deeper down.
Or have i already hit rock bottom?

I haven't been able to lose any weight yet. With a bmi hovering around 14.5 at the moment, it's shameful to remember i had fallen beneath the 13 mark a while ago. My clothes are starting to fit a bit better and i've been getting those sharp comments of "you look much healthier" "your face has filled out a bit". I wonder if they can see the disappointment in my eyes, my eating disorder reacting with rage, spectators screaming fitting names from the sidelines 'Fat!' 'Greedy!' 'Selfish!' I try to look thankful but underneath i am crawling with digsust. I just keep eating, and puking but not really caring as much as i should. The option of diet pills is becoming difficult to resist. I don't even feel small enough to have a real problem anymore, and i can't restrain this intense hunger. My depression wants food and comfort, in an attempt to fill the void and block these feelings, but my eating disorder yearns to see jutting bones denting through skin.

I met the new diabetic nurse, she seemed to have no idea about my issues, otherwise she just didn't want to mention them. I've already decided not to go back. She was planning follow up apointments and intense monitoring. I had to guess the amount of insulin i was supposed to be taking when she asked the amounts, and fake a reasuring illusion of control. It reminded me so much of before. After leaving the ideas started to knock, plans to only record high readings on my second glucose meter and use checking solution to leave faulty but satisfactory results on the first. I can't do that again, start lying and deceiving, always scared to be caught out. But i can't be honest either, they would be horrified, and so i'll run, run away and bury my head in the sand.

I'll be 18 tommorrow.

Not sure how i'm supposed to think of feel. I remember when i was younger, a child, i always thought being grown up would be amazing. I'd be confident and independent, have a job or maybe a boyfriend. I'd be like the other girls i watched laughing and joking, learning to drive, partying, living. It's just so, sad. Here i am, sick, dragging the past along with me, terrified to step into the future.