I woke up at 1 this afternoon, suprised by the sharp red numbers glinting back at me from the alarm clock. After lying there, staring at the ceiling for a while, I eventually managed to drag this useless body from under the duvet and into some clothes. But what was the point? I was back there an hour later, messy hair against the pillow, resting these tired eyes. I am chronically exhausted, always, like i've been slipping sedatives, not just paracetemols to curb these headaches that knock constantly against my skull.

I didn't eat until 6pm, a long stretch of clean sterile emptiness. It made me feel strong, like a thick, bulky caterpillar that after crawling into the cocoon, had emerged a beautiful butterfly, stretching it's wings into the air, learning to fly. Light, free, colourful and powerful. Unfortunately as we all know, butterflies will only live for a couple of days at the most. & i broke, even though i didn't want to, burnt by the luring sunlight, it was all too convinient to eat and purge rather than make up those excuses.

Yesterday it was my Matthew's 21st birthday, my big brother, all grown up. I really want him to be happy. We went out for a meal with my Dad, i was so stressed out as usual, running around beforehand making sure i looked all right, nearly in tears at the sight of my ugly self in the mirror. I did what i could, covered scars and tried to act like i should, like he would want me to. I know he hates my clumsiness, as he said 'you can be a little simple sometimes'. He doesn't even know how old we are, he asks us everytime we see him, it hurts, shouldn't a father know that his children have just turned 18 and 21? I like to think he is joking, teasing us, but there are no signs, he seems genuinly oblivious.

When i got home i wiped the make-up off, black mascara and foundation, a dab of concealer over the sores around my mouth, and a tinted blush to rose my complexion. I continued to eat, shovelling down quiche and cheese out the fridge, alone, fridge glow uluminating my sad face. I'd ordered penne pasta with chicken, pinenuts and pesto at the resturaunt, and it was difficult to throw up, i coughed and spluttered and nearly killed myself along the way trying to get it all out, every last little bit. Falling into the bath water afterwards, dizzy and spaced out.

I have alot of homework this weekend, exams soon, i need to revise, i have to do well. I will be so upset and angry at myself if i fail, after all i have done, all this effort. I really can't believe this year is nearly over. I can't wait till Summer, to meet Gwen at the airport in America and hug her, to see her home and city and to take care of her. I just hope she is still looking forward to it as much as i am.

I can't help but notice this new shape. A slight soft curve of breasts and hips adding to my figure, a womanly figure i do not want. I can't stand it, i want to remain unreal and untouchable. It is horrible, i cannot stand myself. I want to rip myself to shreds.

I feel stronger, somewhere deep in my stomach i want to resist, starve myself deeper. It seems so odd that now, my insides are screaming out for nutrients when i was filled to the brim not so long ago with sandwiches, chocolate, ice cream...food that i do not need or deserve.

I'm pale, and worn out, washed out, burnt out.
Floating with these nightmares screaming through my head.
I feel like i'm already dead.

I want to drift away, rest upon a dream, but i know instead that i would just lie suspended between the realms of wake and sleep, never being able to let go, slip under. The slow tick of lucid thoughts consuming me, torturous self loathing. Restrained here, by the raging demands and insults of my eating disorder.