You may say i am strong, because i am still here, still alive despite all this. But, in reality i may as well be already dead. This is not living. I just feel like a 'thing' occupied by an eating disorder. Fuelled by a fire of self destruction, burning with colours of red and orange and black ash, the only source that can keep me warm. I wish i could wake up, scream, cry, open these blank eyes wide. I wish i could pull all the infected parts of me out, lock it up in a box and let someone take it away. I don't have the energy to be sick anymore, and yet i just don't think i have the energy to get better either.

It's simple. I have to change, only i can do that. I know. Yes it is difficult, and feels like the impossible, but people have faced much worse. I am so horrified by myself, the amount of time i take tending to this disorder, feeding it, letting it consume me. It is such a horrible, obsessional existance. The eating, throwing up, thoughts consumed with food, buffet trips, calorie counts, spending, standing on the scale every hour, shameful. Staring into a fridge full of food i just want to cry at the moment, that familiar feeling of foolishness when i'm binging and i don't even want it, don't even taste it. My head is usually down the toilet when it should be in a book studying, exams soon of course. I am terrified that this year is going to have been a waste, if i do not pass i will not get to university, and if that falls through i have nothing.

My diabetic nurse was worried when she saw me on Tuesday, for the past fortnight all of my readings have been high, she said if i keep going at this rate i will end up in the hospital with ketoacidosis. It didn't faze me, i couldn't care less about myself, but i actually do care about what she thinks. Since then i have been trying so hard, taking my insulin, a few bad highs here and there but showing an improvement. I actually want to prove to her that i can do this.In the past i wouldn't have even made the apointment, as i knew my sugars were pretty awful, i would avoid it, run from the crime scene. I am actually proud of myself for going, which is a strange and almost misplaced feeling. I even told her i needed more frequent sessions, as i usually start off well after seeing her and then slope downhill. Every injection, every time i push that needle into my fat stomach or thigh i feel guilt, i feel wrong and bad and dirty. Flushing out the impurities seems so pointless when i feel this disgusting inside. It is easiest just not to think about it, because if i do for too long my head spins in circles. So far i haven't gained any weight, but i am so very conscious of that.

On Thursday i went to see Hayley, watched her play at a gig, and then went home Friday. I had a genuinley lovely trip. Her singing was amazing as always, and she made me feel so comfortable, always making sure i was okay and didn't feel too worried or scared, giving me grapes to munch on and persuading me that eating a bit of toast with peanut butter on wasn't the most terrible concept in the world. Her boyfriend and friends were so kind too, i actually felt like they wanted me there, that i wasn't just an inconvinience. That girl is amazing :).

I am supposed to be going away to the New Forest this Friday, with Nicky and Cassie. I'm anxious as to how i'll cope, but i guess i will just have to deal somehow. It will be a practise for when i go on holiday with Dad again in July. False normalicy is a wearing act. I won't let myself be see-through.