22.05.05/9:56 pm

hideous

As i pull my jeans up around my waist i can already feel the disgust seeping in. It is intense, raw and overwhelming, like quick poison to my heart. They do not fit as they did before, i gasp as i tighten the zip and try to fasten the button, and then collapse down onto the bed with pathetic sobs. Later comes the floods of tears streaming down my face, a wet pillow and a throbbing headache that will not pass. I cannot deal with this. It has been a long time since the material used to slip loosley on my hips, when i always had to wear a belt to the smallest notch.

How could i be this weak? How could i let it get this far? I am hideous.

My body is coated with bruises, scars and cuts. Red needle marks from my insulin injections, several surrounded by raised lumps or deep rings of grey and purple. Many of these marks are accidental, but plenty of them have been made with intent.

I am constantly walking this line against the edge, shaky, panic struck, stressed. I keep bursting into tears, hoping they will be of some comfort but instead i just feel out of control. The arguments in this house are still ongoing, set off by mere disagreements. The harm is caused by the remarks and insults that come later, usually from his mouth. My Mum's boyfriend, who hates me, i am just in the way, an ugly figure floating in the background, an eye-sore. All i cause is hassle. This is not my home anymore, it is far from that. So much has changed recently and i just wish i could get out and away. I'd miss Mum so much but the atmosphere here is crushing me to dust.

My exams start on Thursday with Key Skills, then i have two English Literature papers on Friday with a week or so gap until Media Studies. I have never felt so worried about exams before, i usually do not care too much, but this time i can't stop imagining all that could go wrong. I have been trying to revise but the facts won't go in, i can't process anything, reading the books i need to know inside and out, and then wondering what just happened a chapter ago. It doesn't help that i keep forgetting to take my prozac, my mermory is shot to pieces at the moment. I still need to make a doctors apointment too, seems i'm avoiding it as usual.

I'm always so run down, exhausted. Have slept alot today and yesterday. This weekend there was a plant sale across the road at our neighbours house, in memory of their daughter Ria, who died from epilepsy complications two years ago. I think i mentioned it here at the time. She and her brother, Chris, used to come around here when we were all just children, and we used to play together, Matthew too. She wasn't taking her medication when she passed out at a friends house and had her final seizure. That poor girl, she was so young, just 21, and lovely too. It's such a harsh reminder as to what i am doing to myself, and what devastation i could cause to those around me, Especially with the consequences of maniplulating my diabetes. I see them walking down to the cemetary often, with their heads down, so sad. She was so full of life and enthusiasm, at university, and no one had any idea that she was neglecting to take her tablets. If she has known what was to come, i expect she would have taken them. But you can never be sure....

I know deep down that this is not about weight, or fat, or the number on the scales. It is about how i feel at fault in this world, and so uncomfortable in my own skin. Yet i can't see through the dark, can't get out of the other end, when i'm constantly at odds with myself. Frustrated and ashamed by the way i speak, what i wear, who i am. Such problems cannot cease if i cannot attack the root. I need my fixation to soothe the guilt, to give me something to live for, an aversion from the chaos inside my head. Just eateateat, pukepukepuke, don't let the thoughts rush in. I can't cope with open space, unclaimed by acts of destruction.

Everytime i pass a car or house window, or collide with the haunting reflection from the mirror i feel so awful, so repulsed. I am not hurting enough.

In the past year i feel i have become a little more confident, at college, talking in class and putting my hand up. But still, i am so much shyer than everyone else. So much more aware of these clunky body movements and the quiet tone of my voice.

It's just safer to remain silent. To sit in this cloud and let nobody in. I don't want the infection to spread.

Lying between flowers and waiting for the sky to fold in.