The days just seem to drag on and on. Fogged in my own hell, i move in a daze, awake through the dark nights and exhausted through light filled hours.

I am here, just about breathing, in this semi-existance, somewhere between life and death. I don't have the courage to tip over the edge, but nor the strength to fight. My eyes don't twinkle, i am drained, lying on the floor, shutting out the noise and the chaos, longing to fall into deep sleep. My feet are so near to this ledge, toes touching open air, something is stopping me from stepping forward, but i can't move away to safety.

I haven't been back to college yet. With a genuine excuse on Monday and Tuesday, the affects of my cold pulling me under, attacking my feeble immune system. Although I could have made more of an effort later on in the week, it just was too hard. To show my face, this awful, ugly face.

I can't bare it, whenever i catch a glance of flesh, fat, a buldge of skin over my trousers, an exposed thigh while getting undressed. I am covered with bruises, lumps and bumps, injection marks from my insulin, pinpricks of the needle reminding me there is something there to delve into, a thickness that needs to be dissolved. But i have to try, i have to keep going. I know i need to atleast maintain this weight, but my mind won't switch off, telling me i have to drop a few pounds, just a few, and then a little more...The sad fact is that i'm not even keeping food down, i'm just binging way too much. Enough to spread this intense self hatred, disgust absorbing me whole.

& The guilt. The guilt is so overwhelming.

Guilty for being too big,
guilty for eating,
for drinking, and moving.
Guilty for having legs and arms that work, sences that are not numbed or dimmed. I can watch the world, and it should be beautiful, but all i can see is grey. I am so ungrateful, so utterly selfish and underserving.

I watched a sketch for comic relief about a 71 year old woman who had to walk miles and miles just to collect water everyday. Her courage and determination amazed me, i wanted to cry for her and for this life i am wasting. A fragile and colourful life that i have scratched and smashed to pieces.