Failure drives me.

Thank you 'ss' for sending me a message to prompt me to get back on here.

Please also forgive my absence from your own blogs. I never seem to have the time to write these days let alone respond to all of your wonderful, kind and sincere comments which honestly are the inspiration and encouragement which keep me going through the toughest times.

So, forgive my tardiness in expressing my thanks and I will eventually do my best to write back personally. To all those who have taken the time to write a few words here over the last few months:
ss, Lissie, what if summer, miss margaret, Zoie, Mich, zen, désespérée de mairgrir, Wings to Set me Free, Gracie, a, Domino, Alice, *daisy*, Beth, Harlow B, Victoria, skinnybusiness, LouLou, Karolina, Shauna, stillimagining, Miranda, Posie, Felicia, v, Clear Girl, lottie x, clytie, Silly Girl, Willa, Seraina, any one I have missed and all the many, many anonymous commenters out there who I cannot identify uniquely,
thank you.

So what has happened since I last wrote?
Work, of course, has been unbearable.

The culmination of unhappiness and tension occured the next Friday after I had posted. My boss walked by and said something nasty to me - basically implying I hadn't done any work all morning. Then my manager called me in to 'have a chat'. In which I was again berated for not having done enough work. I was hurt and insulted. I worked harder than most of the people in that department and was being singled out for this kind of treatment. It broke my heart. All of the hard work and dedication I had shown was being thrown back in my face.
I come in an hour before everyone else to work. I was attacked for it. "Is that why your performance is down?"
I looked back in disbelief. I was easily one of the best performers in the whole team, on paper and in work ethic. I couldn't understand how they felt they had any justification whatsoever to treat me like I was the worst employee in the world.

When she finished and left the room, I broke down in hysterical and uncontrollable tears. Openly crying and not caring who saw me, I rushed across the floor to make it to the privacy of the toilets. As I neared my safety destination I saw the Head of HR coming straight towards me. Shit, no, that was the last person I wanted to see me in this state. I ducked into the little kitchen area on the other side, grabbed at the rolls of tissues and stood in the corner, oblivious to the others around me. It was too late, she had seen me, followed me in and took me by the arm.
"Come and have a sit down with me so you can calm down Ophelia."
"No, no, I'll be fine."
"You can't stand here crying..."
"Yes I can."
"No, come on..."
I wasn't going to be able to stop crying any time soon so I feebly gave in and let her gently steer me across the floor to the enclaves of HR.
I sat down, hyperventilating, tears still flowing heavily from my puffy eyes. It took me 20 minutes to stop.

"Ok, what's the matter."
"I'm just unhappy...
...I hate being a failure," I explained. "That's what drives me, the desire to be perfect, the desire to be the best that I can be. I can't stand being a failure."

Yes, I got branded a failure, first by the boss of the department I want to move to, and now by my own boss in the department where I have worked so hard for the last 6 months.

So how have I responded?
1. I am writing a new blog (link to come soon) which explores my views on global and regional politics, international relations and economics. So that in a few months, I can return to the head of the other department, put all that writing in front of him and dare him to question my ability and knowledge again.
2. I have registered for the CFA Level 1 exam and will be taking it at the beginning of June. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the world of finance, the CFA - Chartered Financial Analyst Program, is designed for those involved in investment management and financial analysis of stocks, bonds, derivative assets, etc. The pass rate on the CFA is less than 40%. Needless to say, with my limited experience, it is going to be a ridiculously massive task to pass on my own. Again, I want to go back to the man that turned me down, put this qualification in front of him and say, "I am now well overqualified for this job. Would you like to reconsider your belief that I wasn't good enough?"
3. I am running a marathon in April. Just to prove I can.


I put my study plan in front of my therapist on Monday and she was horrified. I do an hour of study in the morning before I start work. I do an hour of study over lunch. I study or run in the evening. Weekends are study or researching/writing for my new blog.
I was horrified too. But I'm making up for lost time. The years I lost achieving nothing because I was so ill. I WILL NOT LET THIS GET THE BETTER OF ME. I will not be a failure for the rest of my life.



Theo.
The insenstive bastard didn't reply to my text messages all week. Doesn't acknowledge I exist. Then I get a call at 3am on Friday night. Because he's out, drunk, about to go home and wondering where I am to fuck.
His call woke me up. I didn't answer it. I sent him a text message - to which he still didn't reply. I cried. I couldn't go back to sleep. I binged.

I messaged him yesterday to call me when he had a free moment. Of course he didn't. Not even a message reply. Maybe because he knows I have things to say that aren't going to be very nice.

There was a time when Theo made me smile. In the last few weeks, all he has done is made me cry, made me feel worthless, made me feel unhappy and unloved and alone. I went through all this hell at work on my own, without a single word of comfort from him.

It's very clear why. He doesn't care. I was foolish to imagine he did. He cares when he gets to sleep with me.

I need to be told that I have to walk over to him on Monday and to tell him to never talk to me again. I'm worried I won't.


The problem is that I am inherently unhappy. I am trying to fill up my life with achievements, but I know, somehow, they are not the answer...

I am so tired of failure

Again, too much has happened that I don't know where to begin.
Sometimes I wish my life would just slow right down again.

I will just have to write it in bits, a full monologue is too much for me right now.
Last Friday I nearly ended it with Theo.
As I said, he was taking me out for my Christmas present. I took the afternoon off to get a massage, sit in the sauna, get my hair done and make sure I looked my best.
It was the leaving drinks of someone at work so we both went along to that. Theo told me we would leave at 8:30pm. The time came and went, he did not make a move. He was drinking with his mates, I was standing with my friends, sipping my one glass of wine so I stayed sober to enjoy our dinner. I sent him a text - when are we going? He didn't check his phone. I went to sit upstairs trying to fight back the tears. I read back my last post on my blackberry... I must not take his cluelessness for lack of care, I must not act like a child and ruin this, I must not throw this away....
I made a note:
"It was 8:42pm when I messaged him to ask when we were going, and 9:08pm when I decided that it was over. This was supposed to be our special night. I hadn't taken the afternoon off to get my hair done for my work colleagues Theo, I did it for you. You should be holding on to me like I'm precious gold. I can't do it. I'm walking. Walk Ophelia, don't be weak. Walk. Don't be weak. Even if I stayed tonight, you couldn't change my mood now, it would be impossible, you've spoilt it."

At 9:15pm he called me. I didn't answer, but remained where I was in the upstairs section of the bar. I wanted to teach him a lesson. I'd been gone for 45 minutes and he hadn't even noticed.
I wandered down when my friend called me and left a voicemail.
"Where have you been? We've been looking for you! Theo didn't know where you were!"
"Yeah, I was upstairs."
They told Theo I was there now but he still stayed with his friends outside, drinking and smoking, ignoring me. Finally he came back in and asked my friend, "So what's the plan next? On to the next bar?" I was sat, jacket on, with all my bags ready to go, eyes brimming with tears. Now he was out drunk with his friends, he didn't want me any more, he didn't care about our evening together.
He beckoned me over. I got up reluctantly.
"Are we going?!", I asked.
"Um yeah...we can still make it... you ready to go?"
"Yes!"

We left and got a taxi. I could barely talk. I was choking back the tears. I couldn't look at him. I pushed his hands off me.
We got to the restaurant and ate. He was drunk. But I started to forgive him as his moved over to my side between every course and ran his hands through my hair and told me all the most wonderful, beautiful things.
Shit.
I realised he could only say them when he was drunk.
He couldn't keep his hands off me.
I realised he loved me most for sex.
At the end of the meal he told me to meet him in the toilets and sauntered off. I sat there in disbelief. I was imagining this. But I was drunk too. Why not. Cross it off my list.
I went.
He pushed me to me knees like a doll. He pressed me hard against the wall like a worthless slut. He didn't even know who I was. His face of inebriated pleasure disgusted me.

We left and he called up his friend from work.
"Where are you guys now? Who's there? How long you staying?"
I couldn't believe it. I stood on the pavement in the freezing cold while he floundered, drunk. He hadn't got us a hotel, he didn't know what to do, he dragged me into an Irish pub so he could drink more. I wanted to go home, but I knew the only option was to stay it out for this night.
"What do you want to do?", he kept asking me repeatedly.
"I want to be with YOU. I want to get out of the cold and go to bed."
I didn't know where we were, we walked for ages to some bus stop where we waited for a bus. He wouldn't even get a taxi. When we got to Kings Cross we tried hotel after hotel until we found one with rooms free. I was broken, I couldn't bear to look at him. I got straight into bed and curled up in a ball.

Tonight was supposed to be so special. I'd made myself look stunning for him, drank juice all week, brought my best underwear, sexy new shoes, fucking hell I would do everything for that boy. And look at the love I got in return.

* * *

On Tuesday I had my internal interview for the new position I wanted. I had studied every day over Christmas and every weekend and evening since I knew they were going to interview me.
They turned me down.
Shit, somehow this is even harder to write than the above.

I feel humiliated.
I lay in bed crying myself to sleep, tears flowing down the sides of my face.
Theo said nothing to comfort me.


On Thursday morning I received an email to officially tell me that I had been turned down from the other department and that my current department would excuse me from travel for two months only so there will be a meeting to discuss what is to be done. (I had asked when I went back into treatment to take one afternoon off a week to go to my appointments and to not have to travel so much because I wasn't able to eat any safe foods.)

My current manager is now trying to force me to resign from my current position because in interviewing for the other department I have proven that I am not committed to my current role.
We had the meeting yesterday morning.
"For the business, we want someone who is committed to the role for several years."
"Everyone on that floor is going to move on at some point," I argued back. (In fact, there are only three people in the whole of the department who have stuck around for more than a year.)
"You don't want a career in this, you want to move to the other department. We can't have that in this role. We need someone who is fully committed."
"I am happy where I am and I don't want to leave. I have studied in my spare time, been fully committed to the role during work hours and have given excellent results as proof of that."
"That's not the point. You want to move to the other department if an opportunity arises. I can't have that in my team."

They were doing everything they could to force me to resign.
I signed a document to allow them to have a letter from my doctor.
They are going to ask for a letter explaining my ability to do my job and what effects it has on my health.
"If I choose to do a job that is detrimental to my health then that's my choice." I said angrily.
"Yes, it is, but we need to know, from a 'duty of care' perspective how best to accommodate you."
So they are expecting the letter to come back saying that I shouldn't be working in a high-pressure environment and should not travel. (All of which is absolutely true, I will never get better in this job and my doctor of all people is the one who is most aware of how true that is.)

And they will then use my illness as a way of forcing me out of my job - by way of their 'duty of care' towards me.
My eating disorder took away years of my life, it was the reason I got turned away from jobs in the past, it destroyed friendships, it destroyed relationships, it destroyed opportunities and hope. The great hurricane of destruction clearly hasn't finished it's rampage yet.

This is the most depressed I've felt for over 12 months. All my motivation and lust for life has been sucked out of me again, I cry at the smallest thing, I can't go to the gym, I can't restrict, I can't smile at people. I've gone back to the dark, cold place.
Theo, still in contact with me all week, knows all that happened above, and has not offered a single word of comfort.

Two weeks ago I was dreaming for everything finally falling into place. And now I am standing where I stood just over a year ago. Frightened, empty, alone and humiliated. The girl that everyone wanted to beat at school, the girl who worked so hard, won every award, was going to be great at whatever she chose to be.
Lost
It
All
All I know now is failure.

This is the year

The problem with not posting for two weeks is that my life moves very quickly, and it is now impossible for me to accurately transfer my emotions from the first week (which were very different to this week) into the written word. However, I will do my best.

After the drama of the work Christmas Party, I spent the final week in the lead up to the holidays waiting for Theo to ask to see me. He was going to France with his family over Christmas and I expected him to suggest we go out one evening that week before he went away.
I'd eaten atrociously in the aftermath of the anxiety and stress of the Christmas party season and started the week half a stone heavier than when I had graced the floors of the dinner hall in my beautiful dress on Friday evening. The scales were now showing me a weight that I had not seen since August. I kid you not.
Naturally I was tearing my hair out, and in my deep stupor of depression was unable to drag my sorry arse to the gym and run like crazy to burn off this weight which I had bingeed my way to in the last week or so. Although I was desperate to see Theo again before Christmas, I was also acutely aware that there was no way I could bear him seeing me in such a state of fatness. However, everyday that he did not suggest we go out was another day that I binged in despair.

But really, this was just me being insecure and crazy again. We were talking every day over messages, we'd just had an incredible weekend together - there was nothing wrong. I was the stubborn one who wanted to see him that week but was too proud to ask. I was unfairly testing him without his knowledge and was furious and distraught that he was failing. The poor boy was sitting a few minutes away from me in another department of the office, completely ignorant of the angst and pain that was reverberating through my body as a result of his inaction in this psychotic test of commitment that I was secretly putting him through.

I remember very little of Monday 19th December now, except that I ended up crying and throwing up all night long. This was the effect that the number on the scales had had that day. To see a number I dreaded seeing again, to pinch new fat along my waist, to remember all the food I had stuffed into my face and to know that I alone was responsible for this catastrophe.
I had to take the morning off work to patch myself up. I called up the hospital responsible for my treatment to learn confirmation that I was able to start treatment again on Monday 9th January. Theo still did not ask to meet up with me. So I binged and did it all again.
Wednesday was even worse. I ate nothing all day and then when everyone else left the office to go for drinks, I stayed and attacked the vending machine. Chocolate bar after chocolate bar after chocolate bar, then left the office to buy more, bread, cakes, to eat and then throw up in the toilets at work - only the second time I've ever purged there. As I choked in agony, forcing my fingers harder down my throat, I wondered for a split second what my colleagues would say if I were to be found the next day, dead over a toilet full of vomit.
"So terribly sad...you'd never have known..."
I was so angry at Theo. Again. Irrationality. The voice of my evil eating disordered sister. Poor Theo, all my anger directed at him while he remained ignorant of it all.
Again, he had still not asked to see me this week before he left for France. I was nothing to him. It was over. I was stuffing my face.
I deleted his number from my phone. I would never contact him again.

He messaged me that evening, he messaged me the next day. No, he is not a heartless monster, he never was. He just never thought to suggest we went out that week.

If I had written this post at the time it would have been full of anger - at him and at my fat self - full of anxiety, pain, heartache and destructive despair. But I am writing it now - nearly two weeks later - calm, secure and at peace - so I write it with a different sadness. I look at the raging monster who was ripping her insides to shreds, walking with a clenched fist and her hands clawing out her hair and I can see that girl was not me, but the monster I turn into when my insecurities and body dysmorphic disorder gets out of check. I cried and hurt myself over a boy who did no wrong to me. I did further damage to a body I hated because I hated it.
Who was that girl?
12 months ago, that was the girl I used to be everyday. Seeing her come back was frightening. But at the time, for those string of five days of so, I couldn't control her, I couldn't banish her, I had completely lost sight of all my rational thoughts and concerns.

I cried uncontrollably on the floor of the kitchen while my Mum helplessly looked over me.
"There's nothing you can do. I can't stop when I'm like this."
I pulled out all the drawers and cupboards to find the knife I used to use. It's been taken or lost. At least there is an active part of my brain now that forbids me from buying another, but I am still unable to control the part of my brain that craves the sharp sensation of blood letting when I am on an edge.

A terrible week. It has been several months since I have had a breakdown on that scale for so many consecutive days.


So Theo went to France on Christmas Eve and I didn't get to see him. He did ask in the end - on the Friday - but I was unable to leave work as early as him and he was unable to stay for longer. He passed my silly little test after all, and I had ripped myself to sheds because I had decided that he was breaking my heart.

I started to mend and transform back into a human being over Christmas. I eased back into restricting and running again, and though my body was still a far cry from the figure I had earlier in the month, it was becoming more at peace with itself. This week I eased off the exercise and into a juice fast. Theo was coming back on Friday and we were going out in the evening so I had to make sure I was back to my best.
I had a slight crisis at the realisation that although I was back at work, much of The City was still at home with their families this week. Everywhere in the square mile that made fresh juice was closed. Faced with the prospect of only high sugar fruit juices and smoothies from the supermarket shelves, I had to resort to shady ancient bottles of wheatgrass and carrot juice from Holland and Barrett.

Friday came at last and I had forced my weight back down to a more acceptable figure. In my mind there was still no doubt that I had extra inches on my tummy, but there was not much I could about it now. I was somewhat comforted by the fact that Theo would almost certainly have put a few extra kilos from the excess of food on his family dinner table over Christmas and I was still going to be in better shape than him. I barely felt the hunger all day, and after sitting in the half empty office makeupless and drab for the last few days, I delighted in getting my hair done at lunchtime and making myself look pretty for him.

I almost ran out the doors of the office when he finished work and called me to say he was ready to go. He was waiting for me by the road with a huge umbrella ready. Although I wanted to remain composed and perfect, I couldn't help but burst into a huge smile at the sight of him. I tumbled into his arms and kissed him.
I was with Theo again.

We went to the same bar where we had our first date and I snuggled up to him happily.
He stroked my hair lovingly, "I've missed you a lot you know."
I looked at him, half surprised. "Not as much as I've missed you!"
"I'm sorry I left you for so long."
I smiled. I had been such an idiot for wanting to believe that he didn't like me. "I'm just glad you're back now."
He ran his hands through my hair and gazed at me. "Beauty."
Shit I'm going to start crying like a fool.
"I've been thinking about you a lot you know, and that never happens...you're gorgeous, intelligent, driven, sexy, good in bed... gorgeous". Gorgeous. He kept saying it.

I melted away in his fingers that evening. He said all the things that I had spent years dreaming someone would say to me one day. No man has ever looked at me in the way that he does or loved the things about me that he does.


The talk turned to eating disorders again when he asked me what I would spend my excess money on if I won the lottery.
"I'd use the money to raise awareness of eating disorders and make more treatment facilities available for those that need it. But I know it's controversial and people would never see it as a worthwhile cause."
I told him about the NHS waiting lists, I told him about the blogs I had read of girls in their early teens, I told him of the terrible underground hideaway that so many run to, the unknown number of people that suffer without understanding their illness or being able to find help or kindness.
He asked me again if I still had problems.
I looked at him and didn't say a word. I loved him and trusted him and wanted to tell him, but I had promised myself that he was never going to know.
"If I did, I would never tell you," I said.
"Why not?"
"Because it's not your problem - it's mine. It has nothing to do with you, why would it matter?"
"Because I care about you..."
I stared at the table. "Let me tell you something..." I paused, unable to find the words. He sat silently and intently. I had to say it. "My ex... he broke up with me because of my eating disorder. He couldn't handle it."
"Did he know?"
"Yes, he knew, he knew I was very ill at the time... but there is a very big difference between knowing about it and seeing it. And when he saw it, he couldn't handle it, and he walked away."
He pulled me close to his chest and tenderly kissed me on the top of my head.

We couldn't keep our hands off each other, but after a few cocktails, things were starting to get blurry. I hadn't eaten anything solid for several days and I simply couldn't handle the alcohol.
I apologised, "I can't drink anymore... I'm too drunk. I need to eat."
I told him I hadn't eaten all day and he was shocked. "Let's go find a place to eat."
We found a little Vietnamese restaurant and he let me order. I tucked into the dishes, sobering up almost as soon and the food touched my lips.
"Have some more," I told him, not wanting to look like a glutton. He shook his head, "No, you haven't eaten all day, you need it." He wasn't hungry at all and I understood that he had taken me to the restaurant only to see me eat.
After a few more drinks at another bar, we went back to our usual hotel. I wasn't my usual confident, sexy self at first. I knew that I had extra inches on my tummy and was scared about him seeing it. My old fears of bright lighting started creeping back in case he saw how flawed my skin was underneath the makeup. And as a result it was missing a spark.
But he is Theo, and Theo tells me I am beautiful. I finally let all the fears and insecurities go. And just enjoyed the sensation of holding him again.


I looked at myself in the mirror the next day and wondered what it was that he saw and prayed that he always continued to see it. Even when my mind goes black and I see a monster before me, I prayed that he never saw it too. All evening and all the next day we behaved like a couple in love. Holding hands, kissing, playing with each other. It was simply wonderful. We haven't discussed the status of our relationship, but I know that we are a couple in everything but words now.

I went to bed, sound and happy, welcoming in the new year of 2012 with a heart bursting with happiness and love.
Thank you, Theo.



I wish I could end the post there, but unfortunately, the eating disorder has to rear its ugly head again. This coming Friday, Theo is taking me out. Being the slightly rubbish, disorganised man that he is, he didn't get me a Christmas present before Christmas, but is organising something for Friday instead. He won't tell me what it is, but I suspect he's going to take me to a nice restaurant (I'd be surprised if he has the ability to organise something more than that.) So after eating with him this weekend, it is back to the juice diet until Friday.

I know that everything between us is perfect at the moment, I know that he thinks I am beautiful, and I know that he is falling for me, but I can't help it. I don't want to be enough for him, I want to be exceptional.
The irony is that in wanting so desperately to be perfect for Alex, I fed the eating disorder and sickness which made him leave me. Of course I don't want to make that same mistake with Theo now, but I also don't want to lose him, I want him to think that I am beautiful forever.

A number of you commented some perfect truths in response to my last post. Theo is not Alex, I must not and should not have the same fears concerning him. Theo is pretty clueless - sweet, wonderful, caring - but nonetheless clueless. I must not mistake that cluelessness for lack of care, because when I am with him, I can see so clearly that no one has ever cared for me as intently as he does.
So why can't I let go?
Well I guess that's the nature of eating disorders isn't it. You can't let go. I will always put pressure on myself to be thin and beautiful for Theo. In a sense, it's my way of showing him how much he means to me. More importantly, I am going back into treatment on the 9th January. I will go back to having weekly weigh-in sessions, eating diaries, and work hard at maintaining a proper diet. I want to do that for Theo as well - and for myself - because I know, especially after seeing my frightening, old behaviour come back in the last few weeks, that our relationship will never withstand the destructive force of my full-blown eating disorder. I want to commit to this properly, I want to be with Theo, I want to be happy, I want to love and be loved. I do not want to destroy myself or my chances at happiness anymore. I believe that I deserve this.

I read back all my old posts today. I was horrified and heartbroken to remember the sadness that reverberated in the words I wrote and to remember so clearly all the dreadful things I had written about. I was a wreck at university, I lived in a terrible world and lived a terrible life. And this blog only covers a tiny part of my life trapped in a torturous bubble. I ruined a great deal of my life, I could have been magnificent.

But I've still come a long way from the girl who started writing in this blog three years ago. I am not full of self-hate and pain. I have broken out of the cold, empty prison. The bleak four walls of my insecure, body dysmorphic, eating disordered brain do not keep me trapped me any more. I've come so far from the numb teenager who couldn't look at herself in the mirror or walk out the door in the mornings. I've fought some fucking horrendous battles to get where I am, and I'm not going to lie, I very nearly didn't make it, I very nearly burnt everything to the ground and gave in.
I don't know what it was that gave me the strength to start standing tall again in 2011, but I'm so glad it did. I believe in recovery. I believe that others have done it, and I believe that I can too.

I just have to reach my goal weight before I start treatment. And then I promise, it will be easy for me to work hard in therapy and learn to be healthy and 'maintain'. I promise, 2012, this is the year.

Logical Conclusions

I came home on Wednesday night realising that I had fallen hard.

It was the leaving drinks of one of the management team and much of the office was out for the party - Theo included.

I nervously watched the door of the venue until he came, the girls I worked with laughing at me for my childishness.
When he finally arrived it was a while before we spoke to each other, and when we did it was just casual and normal as it would be between any work colleagues. As the evening began to wear on we became more flirty and more separate from the rest of the crowd. He looked gorgeous as ever, his big brown eyes burning into mine and making me so hungry for him. I wanted to hold his hand, wanted to cuddle up close to him, I wanted to kiss him, I wanted to be open about our relationship, but I couldn't because people that we worked with were around. It killed me. It made me anxious.

At one point I turned wild with jealousy when I saw him talking to another girl from my department who I was not friends with and didn't particularly like. She was just talking to him. I turned flustered and paranoid to Luke, "Look! He's flirting with Sarah! Look! Fuck him!"
"Woah, woah, Ophelia, calm down, it's nothing ok, it's harmless. Listen, you are hot, ok. He's not going to flirt with other girls."
"But look!"
"Ok, listen, I'll have a word in his ear and be like, Ophelia's here, what are you doing, don't flirt with other girls - alright?"
"Oh would you do that?!"
And without me being able to think about it or stop him, he barged over and had a word in Theo's ear. I followed behind anxiously, and apologised, shocked that I had resorted to such a desperate measure.

As the bar started to clear out, I was briefly left behind inside putting on my jacket. Through the windows across the floor I could see Theo outside talking animatedly to Sarah again. The red mist descended immediately and I stood frozen to the spot, glaring at them from afar. A slimy guy approached me and I gave him a foul look. Theo should be with me to stop dickheads like that getting close to me. But no, he wasn't even thinking about where I was, he was outside talking to that fucking bitch again. I stormed out and grabbed hold of Rhianna's arm rushing away to follow everyone else walking ahead.
"Where are you going?" She asked, "What about Theo?"
"Fuck him!" I said loudly, "he's busy flirting with Sarah, I'm done, I'm going!"

"Ophelia!"
It was Theo, rushing up behind me.
"What."
"Hey, hey, where are you going?! What's the matter?!"
I stared at him angrily.
"You can fucking talk to who you want, ok, it's fine! Do what you want!"
"I'm sorry! She was flirting with me, she was asking what a CDS was!"
"It doesn't matter ok, you're free to talk to who you want."
"No, no it does matter, I'm sorry. When I saw you storm off like that..." he trailed off and held my face in his hands.
I looked away.

I felt awful. I had overreacted like a jealous, mental, freak. I'd shown him my true colours. I was the one in the wrong - not him. We left everyone else and walked, finding bars that were still open, kissing, walking, finding fast food to eat.
"You look really cute tonight," he said, "really cute."
He told me that he admired me for the things I had been through. He admired that I was a fighter, he admired that I was so strong. I shook my head. "Look at me, I'm fucking insecure, I'm not strong - I pretend."
"You have a really messed up view of men," he said. "You've only ever known stereotypical boarding school boys, army boys, lads that see women for one thing." He was trying to tell me he was not one of them. But I couldn't believe him.

...and yet...
I did....

...He ran after me when I stormed off because I saw him talking to another girl. He comforted me, he told me I was beautiful, he made me feel so safe and happy and loved.
Yes, fuck it all, yes, I felt loved.



* * *

It hurts to write about this next part. I will write it down and then try and erase it from my memory - try to pretend that it never happened and neither of us will remember it.

* * *

So Friday was the office Christmas Party. Lots of things happened that are blog-worthy, but I will stick to the bear essentials so that I do not have to endure the pain of remembering and analysing too much of this night.

Of course I put in all the effort I could to make sure I looked perfect, including running for three hours on an empty stomach the day before and making myself feel immeasurably ill.
All evening I just watched him.
Became paranoid when I lost him.
Avoided talking to him if I could.

I just wanted him. I wanted him to come and find me, come and get me, come and claim me.

I can't write about this coherently.

Towards the end we were outside talking to one of his friends, James, who was asking about how we managed to keep our relationship separate from work. We didn't know what to say.
At one point my boss had come up to him and explicitly said, "Are you fucking Ophelia?!" It was apparent by now that everyone knew.
We left the party venue to go to a nearby club in the City.
I saw him pause and watch to check that I was coming along with the crowd. I was pleased.

But then, when we finally got in to the club he didn't come in with us.
I flipped. I was so angry. He hadn't come in with me, he was with other people, I didn't know where he was, had he gone home, had he left without me, how could there be other people he wanted to be with, how could I not be the most important thing for him.
I went to the toilets and cried. Another girl I worked with comforted me.
I was so angry.
He had proved Rhianna right. I was angry because he had proved her right. He didn't like me enough to stay with me, to claim me.
I picked up my phone to text him, "Goodbye, hope you have fun." I stopped myself and instead wrote, "Are u coming."

He came.
(Of course he fucking came.)
He was just outside, smoking and talking to a group of others - like I had known deep-down all along he was.
But the damage was done. I'd been broken.
I ignored him.
I was in so much pain. The anxiety had twisted me up into a knot and I was choking.
I couldn't control it, I couldn't reign it in, I needed him, I needed him all or nothing. I couldn't control the ridiculous, irrational, anxiety and it was impossible to make me see reason.

Theo slowly began to calm me down again and put the smile back on my face. We were outside smoking when the club closed and everyone remaining began to gather outside with us deciding what to do next. Theo knew what I wanted, we had made the decision on Wednesday to stay in a hotel together. And yet he wasn't making a move to leave them.
I got left talking to the dickhead of the office, John, who I had fallen out with one night back in October when he ignorantly made a joke about bulimia.
That pushed me over the edge.
Fuck Theo.
He was doing it again, he wasn't claiming me.
"I'm going," I said bluntly to John.

And I walked off, tears brimming in my eyes. I wanted Theo, we were supposed to have a lovely night together.

Halfway down the road, I stopped.
I was being stupid.
This behaviour wasn't going to get me what I wanted.
I walked back.
I had a missed call from Theo. I was too embarrassed to answer.
I walked back over to him. John laughed in my face. I probably swore at him.
I ran over to the little shop across the road, intent on buying food to stuff my face. Theo stood outside anxiously watching me. I probably swore at him too.
he came inside the shop and I put my hands to my head to agony. "I want to eat. But I can't."
He took me outside and calmed me down. John was standing across the road staring at us. I was on edge and flipped. Theo was clearly upset by my behaviour and anxiously held on to me as he asked me what was wrong.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm so sorry. Please, can we just get away from here?"
"Where to?"
"Can we just go away from here!"
"A hotel"
"Yes!"

How hard was it to understand what I needed Theo? I needed you. I just needed you.

He did his best to comfort me, "You're so gorgeous, how do you not see that?"
"I just don't ok."
"How can you not wake up in the morning and see how beautiful you are. How can you not wake up and think, yeah, I'd fuck that - I would."
I couldn't even laugh, I just hung my head with sadness.
It was - it is - incredibly sad, that a guy can sit there, hold her hand, care about her, tell her she is beautiful, believe that she is beautiful, and yet the girl he speaks to is fighting back the tears because she cannot believe him.

When we got back to the hotel, I was still incredibly tense and anxious. I looked in the mirror and saw the ugliness. I wanted to smash it, I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. But I would spoil everything.
my memory is patchy now. We had sex, but then I fell apart. I cried.
Fuck it, I cried in front of him again. I turned away and refused to explain why I was so upset.
I think I told him something about being really insecure. I can't remember. I probably told him it doesn't matter, he wouldn't understand. Nothing. It's nothing.
All I could think about was how ugly I was, and how he had seen that now, especially now I had cried.



I woke up in the morning feeling cold, empty and horribly sober. I peeled myself out from underneath his arm and hid my face as I ran off to the bathroom to shower and fix the damage. I banged and crashed around the bathroom, still full of anger, huffing and puffing like a spoilt child, anxious in case he woke up and saw my face. With sober eyes it really wasn't that bad.
I remembered my behaviour last night and felt cold.

This was how I lost Alex. Exactly the same. That morning with him I had woken up insecure about the way I looked and acted like a spoilt child who hadn't got her way. I had hidden away and refused to go to breakfast with him.
I had done the same with Theo. I had gotten insecure because he (understandably and naturally!) hadn't stayed by my side all night and I had cried, run off down the road, come back and acted like an insecure freak.

I crept back into bed silently, full of shame. His back was turned to me.
It broke my heart.
His back was turned to me the way Alex's back had been turned to me on the morning when our relationship had come crashing down.
I looked at Theo's cold back and knew that I had lost him. I had lost him because of my insecure, irrational and childish behaviour - exactly the same way that I had lost Alex. I cuddled up to him and tried to get him to put his arm around me again. He wouldn't. He was fast asleep.

I needed him to wake up, I needed to know that it was all ok.
I had no one but myself to blame. Theo had done nothing wrong. It was my insecurity that had painted him as the bad guy. I had acted completely out of line when all he had done was act normal and kind to me.
I slowly woke him up with kisses - maybe I can cure this with sex, I thought - maybe I can pretend like nothing happened, maybe he will not remember, maybe I can say that someone else upset me, that there was a reason for it which had nothing to do with him, or with me being mental.

Somehow, thank God, it was alright. I apologised and everything went back to normal. I hadn't lost him, he wasn't cold to me, he was lovely, I still had him. We laughed and talked and played and had the most perfect sex, thank God, thank God. It was alright.

It is still going to be alright though? I don't know. He won't forget the way I behaved. He won't forget the tears rolling down my cheeks and the pain that was reflected in them. He's smart in the way that he sees these things.

Later he asked me again if I was completely over my eating disorder. I told him again that I was, yes, but it was going to be something that I would always have to fight.
"You saw what happened last night. Sometimes I have a bad moment and I have to fight the insecurities again. That will never go away. I will never wake up and love what I see, I will always have to fight this."


Ultimately, I nearly lost him because of my insecurity and my eating disorder. If I learnt anything from my relationship with Alex it is that I cannot hide my problems from someone forever. They will find out because it will come out, and they will not be able to handle what they see. Friday night was proof that I still do not have control over my anxiety and irrational, insecure behaviour. And I have got to get a grip. I have got to work hard to fight it. I cannot brush this under the carpet any longer. I cannot be an actress on a stage for one night at a time. If I want anything more with Theo I will have to drop the act because I could never hold out a long term role like that. So, I either let him see the real, broken, torn and unhappy side of me and the horrible, sick world I live in; or I stop behaving like a reckless hedonist and mend, and heal and become a real human girl in a real human world.

While I sit in bed at my laptop writing this, he is probably sitting in bed analysing everything as well. I only have myself to blame if he comes to a logical conclusion and walks away.

In a crazy way, I probably acted as badly as I did on Friday because I realised that I was falling in love with him.
I am.
I'm falling in love with Theo.
And that makes me petrified, because the logical conclusion... is not a pretty one. If he doesn't ruin it, I will.

I want to keep smiling

It nearly didn't happen. Millie and Rhianna spent all of Tuesday trying to convince me that Theo didn't really like me. I was devastated and broken, but mostly I was angry. How dare they tell me who I should or shouldn't date, telling me that I'm nothing to him, just another girl he can fuck, that he should be behaving in a way that they deem more appropriate, chasing me like a lovesick puppy. I was furious and my self-esteem was in shatters again. Sure, he was rubbish at replying to my messages and never gushed his feelings towards me, but I'd only really known the guy a few weeks! They sat me down and told me that taking him out on Friday would be a terrible mistake because he didn't like me and would only hurt me.

But I am a rebel. I rebel against anyone who tells me what to do, and my God, thank goodness that I do! I remembered the way we had talked for hours, I remembered the way we had laughed, I remembered he had made me feel something I hadn't felt for such a long time.
I ignored their words and went ahead with my surprise, took him to the Light Bar on St Martins Lane in Leicester Square and then a bright, glamorous hotel off Oxford Street.

And yes, yes dear readers, I was right, everything about it was perfect, perfect, perfect!


"Why do you like me?" he asked.
"Because you make me smile - and I like smiling."
"...You have a beautiful smile."
I touched his hand and looked at him intently to express my thanks. His eyes told me he was telling me the truth.
He carried on, " I don't know why you worry about your weight, your body is perfect, don't ever change. You look gorgeous tonight. You must know you do."
I melted inside. "Thank you... so do you."

I gave him a Christmas card with the room key and room number. "Happy Christmas".

"This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me - and the sexiest. Thank you, seriously, I don't deserve this."
I beamed. "Yes you do."

I made it clear that this surprise night out and hotel was a Christmas present, but he still made the gesture to take me to a restaurant for dinner during the night and then out to lunch the next morning. We sat down to lunch at 12 noon and stayed in the same seats for 7 hours straight. Its incredible to say, but the time just passed so fast and so wonderfully as we talked and talked, learning about each other.

Yes, we met after work at 6pm on Friday and left each other at 7pm on Saturday - over 24 hours together, and every moment just so wonderful.

He wanted to know what I had been doing since I graduated and what the big secret that I kept about it was.
I asked him what his inclin was. He hesitated. Somehow I knew that he had worked it out.
"Go on, tell me what you think it might be," I demanded.
He shook his head, clearly troubled. I kept pushing him, it was going to be better if he worked it out than if I told him cold.
After more hesitation, he finally chose his words, "...Something to do with an eating disorder..."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because it's something you've spoken about a fair amount."
I took a deep breath and nodded slowly. I trusted him now, I had let him in, he knew me and he cared about me. So I nodded and told him about my eating disorder - I explained where I had been since I graduated, why I had left London, how long I was in treatment. He took it so well, never saying a word to interrupt me, just remaining so sincere and kind. He let me in too - he let me see the softer side of him, the gentle sensitiveness that he kept hidden to the rest of the world.

I felt like even though he knew nothing about eating disorders, he understood, he was different. I saw the way he looked at me had changed. I wasn't just some pretty girl to him. I wasn't even just some pretty, intelligent girl or just some pretty, intelligent and fun girl. He did something that Alex had never been able to do - he looked at me and saw all my scars, my bruises, my battle wounds - and he saw that they had made me beautiful inside.
I always said about Alex that I was beautiful in ways he could never understand until he experienced pain - and it was true - what makes me so beautiful and special is the side of me that I can express here, my head full of beauty, my heart full of love, my body full of scars. Alex had never felt my beauty. He was cold, scientific and unemotional. Theo is not like that. Intelligent, masculine, practical, yes, all those things that Alex was, and yet still capable of looking at me in a way I'd never seen anyone look at me before. He looked at me like I was beautiful - inside.

Of course I didn't tell him that I was still bulimic now. He is never going to know about that.
I cheerfully told him I was better now as I stuffed my face with fish and chips and helped myself to his chips too.
"Look at what I eat, obviously I'm ok now! I never want to go back to feeling like I did when I was at my worst, ever."

I should feel bad for lying to his face. But I don't. I will not let my eating disorder ruin what I have with Theo. I will lose him if he knows, just as I lost Alex, and lost every other guy I'd ever liked. People can't handle it.
After an incredible night out, incredible sex, incredible intimacy, it was wonderful to spend those seven hours with him where we just chatted and laughed and smiled.


Millie and Rhianna had been calling me all day and I didn't answer them. When I finally picked up my phone, Rhianna shouted out me and told me I was out of order for ignoring them when I was Theo. I put the phone down and burst into tears, turning away from him so he couldn't see my face.
"I'm sorry," I said "I have to go."
They were making me go out to Public in Chelsea with Millie's boyfriend and his friends. After everything we had talked about - my illness, my Mum, my circumstances, I only finally burst into tears when Rhianna spoke to me like I was a piece of shit over the phone in front of him.

He pulled me close at the tube station as we said goodbye and kissed me tenderly. He thanked me again, and I smiled, "You're so welcome, I'm glad you had a good time."

I was so angry and hurt and upset by the way Rhianna had spoken to me on the phone. I went home, stuffed my face, threw up, put on a little tea dress and flats and went to meet them. As I walked over Millie looked at me in poorly disguised horror. Everyone else was dressed up to the overdone maximum. I shrugged, sure I felt like crap but I was making a point. I wasn't here to attract a bunch of random men I didn't give a fuck about. I wasn't going to make her happy by getting with someone she deemed more appropriate.
"I'm bring Jimmy's single friends for you to meet, 'Real men'," she had said.
Real fucking men? I wasn't attracted to a single one, there wasn't one under the age of 29. Who did she think she was trying to tell me what was good or bad about a guy. She had treated Theo so unfairly considering she didn't even know him at all and made both me and him feel like shit. I made friends with 'the mean girls', what did I expect. Rhianna spent all of today telling me how hot the guy she got with was and how skinny everyone kept saying she was. Even Millie's boyfriend was lusting after her 'body of a 6 year old'.


I went to my therapist yesterday for my last 'follow up' session since leaving treatment in June. And as a result I am now going back into treatment again. Sad isn't it. I couldn't get better, I still treat my body like shit, I still have no control over my bulimia, I still want to be thin more than anything else. I will find out later this week if I have to go to the bottom of the waiting list again or if I can start straight away.

It is our work Christmas Party on Friday, and that date - Friday 16th December - is ruling my life. I am petrified and sick inside at the idea of looking fat and ugly especially standing next to my two ultra-gorgeous, ultra-stick-thin friends. I will be the ugly, fat brunette one.
I ended my friendship with Rob in the office because he was bad for my recovery and self-esteem. I have to put myself first again, I have to stay away from people that make me feel like shit about myself. Fighting to block out my own voice is hard enough.



"What do you want from me Ophelia?"
"You make me smile. I want to keep smiling."

"All little girls should be told they are pretty"

It's funny, the way the world works out.
Theo and I had an incredibly fun time last Thursday when we went out - an undeniably incredible time.
So you can understand why I was very confused when he became extremely flakey afterwards and refused to commit to another night when we could go out again. I have always been very straight up and direct when asking him out and was so again.
He told me that he was busy all this week after work and when I tried to suggest a date of next Friday, I was told that this was too far in the future to know if he was free or not! I was fuming with anger.
That's it, I decided, just like all the other guys, you get one chance with me, and if you can't show me that you want me, then I do not have the time to waste.

I imagined that for my next blog post I'd be sitting here at my laptop bitter and bitching about his behaviour towards me, but I'm glad to say that from this point onwards, this post takes a much more positive turn...


The only time Theo and I ever really come into contact at work is when our teams have our Friday afternoon meeting. This Friday was no exception, and because I had taken the morning off, I also indulged in the luxury of having a blow dry at a hair salon near to the office. He had turned down a date with me and ignored me this week, so I had to make sure that when he saw me in this meeting I blew his little public schoolboy socks off.

Hoping that I did, I checked my phone again after the meeting was over, just like I had been checking it incessantly all week, in the hope that he would have seen sense and would text to ask me out. Nothing.
So I decided to thow my dignity out of the window and text him one last time.
"Sooo any idea if you're free next Friday yet?"
"Haha why, what's happening?"
"Nothing special, just me."
"What did you have in mind?"
"A surprise..."
And then no reply.

Fuck.

Rhianna and I decided to go out for a drink after work, and as I waited for her by the lifts I saw the group of them leave: Theo, Cassio and two other guys from their department.
A cheeky glint formed in my eye. 'Let's go find them', I suggested to Rhianna. She grinned and agreed, knowing the fun that could ensue...

The office boys always stuck to the same Friday night watering holes so it was easy to find them. Overcome and giggling like schoolgirls we bought our drinks and settled in another area, chatting comfortably. Once an acceptable amount of time had passed we went over and started chatting to them, pretending to be surprised to bump into them. It was all fine, all normal, all fun. Me and Theo were easy and normal, but we quickly broke away from the group. As we smoked outside one of the other guys, James, came out to join us.
"I'll be gone in a minute", he said to us jokingly, "and leave you two to your sexual tension".
Assuming that he already knew and Theo had told him, I pretended to cheekily laugh it off.
"Haha, what! I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"Look, it's obvious, I'm very good at picking up on these things," he said.

As the bar started to close up, we decided to move on to a club in The City called Abacus. Theo was already very drunk. We lost Rhianna and Cassio briefly, and as we waited for James by the toilets, Theo finally forgot his inhibitions, pulled me close and kissed me. James came out and saw and ran off from us, grinning but slightly embarrassed. I shrugged at Theo, oh well!

The rest of the night was somewhat awkward, Theo and I were blatantly together and Cassio was there to witness me with my arm tightly and comfortably around him. I should have felt bad, but I didn't. I didn't like Cassio, and now that he knew the type of girl I was, there was no way he would like me either. He already hated Theo, so it all made very little difference.
It was great being with him. He made me feel so happy and so bright. I loved holding his hand, I loved his hands on me, I loved having his body close.
I spoke to him bluntly:
"So are you free next Friday or not? Why are you so difficult?"
He apologised, "I just really didn't want things to interfere with work, I didn't want it to be an issue."
"Ok, I understand. But listen, work is work, it's completely separate to your social and personal life. At work we are just colleagues who barely see each other, outside work, we can be whatever we want."
He nodded. "Ok, next Friday. I'm free."
I smiled cheekily. "Good, its going to be fantastic."

After everyone else had left the bar, Theo and I chilled for a little longer, kissing in a seating area downstairs. Eventually as this club began to close up as well, we left and began walking North. We both knew what we wanted, and although I wanted it more than anything, I found it impossible to admit.

He walked me to an open newsagent so I could buy some chocolate. As usual, I hadn't eaten all day and was in desperate need of something to give me energy. As we walked past the same hotel we had stayed in two weeks ago, we stopped and lingered.

"Let's just do it," I said.
I paid for the room and in we went.

We had been outside, walking and kissing in the late night rain and my first instict was to lock myself in the bathroom and refresh my hair and makeup.
"Don't put anymore makeup on!" he demanded.
"No!"
"I mean it, don't, it won't change a thing. You look gorgeous."
"Shut up."
"You look gorgeous. Make up doesn't make you look prettier. It doesn't change your features."
I looked at him with big, grateful eyes. He thought I was gorgeous as I was.

In the morning it was the same. Sex, conversations and laughter. We play-fighted and laughed like people who had known each other for years. He talked to me about work, economics, education. We sat in bed looking at my 'Introduction to the Financial Markets' textbook as he explained yield curves to me. We laughed and joked about silly, childish things. We talked about things so effortless that I can't even remember what they were.

He ran his hands across my back, his fingertips lingering.
"Look at your shoulder blades..." He said adoringly.
"What?!"
"They're just... You just have like no body fat on you..."
I melted inside. Of course he was exaggerating, but it meant so much. He liked my body. It was worth it, everything I had done, all the running, all the pain, all the time, all the effort.
He will never know how much it meant to me that he lay in bed with me and my naked body and adored it in the way he did.

We checked out at noon and he suggested we go and get some 'breakfast'. Only when we got to the street of restaurants and eateries did we realise that for the rest of the world it was actually lunchtime.

We stopped by a really cute, cosy place which did homely British food. He had a burger and chips while I tucked into a fish pie and chips. I smiled the whole way through, not caring about my expanding waistline, but enjoying the lovely warm food and flavours, and of course, enjoying his company most of all. Even when we had finished eating and paid and the restaurant began to clear out around us, we stayed chatting incessantly. It was 4.30pm when I finally had to tell him I needed to leave and go home.
It was me that had to say it.
After we had finished eating, at every next moment, I expected him to say we should get going and leave. But he didn't, he just sat there, happy being with me. It meant the world to me that he did that. It's not just sex. It's more. And that makes me smile. We sat there talking while the restaurant cleared out and emptied around us, until we were the only table left.



I never want him to know about my eating disorder. He can know it was in my past but I never want him to know about the shit I do now. I don't want what destroyed my relationship with Alex to destroy what I have with Theo.

So I'm seeing him again on Friday. I'm surprising him - It's his Christmas present. I'm taking him to a restaurant at one of the best hotels in Mayfair and have booked a room for us to stay there afterwards. I want a date where I can dress up and pretend to be rich and glamorous for a day. So yes, while I am blowing loads of money on him, I'm also blowing loads of money on treating myself to having my own little fantasy come true as well.

It's going to be magnificent. I'm going to feel like a rich princess for an evening. Of course it would be a little more perfect if it was a surprise that he had planned and he was paying for, but that's slightly irrelevant. My only fear is that he might be overwhelmed and run from me thinking that I'm too in love with him or something.



Millie called me once I had left Theo on Saturday afternoon and shouted at me. She doesn't think that he likes me because he wouldn't give me an answer about our next date and she believes that he should be the one chasing me. She told me I made a big mistake in sleeping with him for a second time and that I was goning to get hurt. I know she said those things because she cares about me, but at the same time she doesn't understand who I am and my philosophy on life.
I might die tomorrow. I can't take my money with me, so I'm gonna spend it all on looking my best and having the time of my life. What happened with Theo on Friday made me happy. I felt so alive and was smiling from the heart. Next Friday is gonna cost me well over £400 but I don't care because I'm gonna have the time of my life.
I don't live for the future, I live for the moment. I live for the extreme highs. I do not do mediocre in-between.

The only way Theo will truely hurt me is if he makes me think our relationship is more than it is - if he makes me think he's in love with me when he's not - or if he stops seeing me for another girl instead.
At the moment I'm still in control, we're still just having fun, still just getting to know each other.


Of course this week is gonna be intense because I'm gonna have to look my absolute thinnest and absolute best for Friday night. But you know, when I'm doing it for something like this - for someone who I know appreciates it - it's enjoyable. I love it. Burning calories becomes my ultimate high because I know how thrilling and wonderful it will feel when he sees me looking stunning on Friday. No feeling compares to that.

"All little girls should be told they are pretty, even if they aren't," said Marylin Monroe.
I thoroughly agree. It has made me the happiest girl in the world to be told the things that Theo told me, and to be told them by Theo, because his opinion means everything to me. It makes my eating disorder a happy thing, that gave me happiness, and will give me even more.

Hungry for The Boy

The main point I need to make from my behaviour in my last post is a very strong and clear one:

I am not a role model.
I am not a role model in any physical way, shape or form.

This is physically the most ill I have ever been. And there's no denying that. Even though I feel on top of the world, even though mentally I've never felt better, that's all kind of irrelevant. It's irrelevant because my body won't last - and what's the point of being happy and being so alive inside when you know the physical medium that's holding it all together won't last for too long.

I am either starving and over-exercising; bingeing and purgeing multiple times a day; or abusing laxatives, or several of these at once.
The weekend after I slept with Theo I started to get scared. I pumped my body full of junk food after ripping my digestive system to shreds. I began to be afraid for the first time that what I'd been doing was going to see me end up in hospital - and that is a new fear I've genuinely never seriously contemplated before.

Fact is, this 'success' is coming at a heavy price - I'm pushing my body further than I've ever done, I'm living a life that's zooming by at top speed, not caring about the consequences of anything as long as I'm having a good time.

I'm living like someone who knows her time is short. I want to live as fully as possible, I want to get squeeze everything out of life while I can.
It's wonderful to live like that, to not think about consequences, but its scary too.
My digestive system is about to give up on me, I know I simply must not take any more laxatives now. I was frightened for the first time in my life that my insides had stopped working. I spent four days stuffing myself with food and nothing moved. Relief came at last. All the parts still work.

Millie and I had a good heart to heart the following Monday and she told me some home truths. Millie and Rhianna are actually two of the best friends I have ever had.
Millie told me that I was in no position to have a relationship. And when she said it, I realised it was totally true. None of these guys have a fucking clue who I really am.

Our chat prompted me to call up Alex and speak to him for the first time since we broke up last year. I asked him why he broke up with me. Although he originally tried to say again that the eating disorder had nothing to do with it, but I was relieved when he finally stood tall like a man and told me the truth.
He said he saw no future for us because he never believed I could get better. He hated that there were two sides of me. The happy, fun girl I was when I was with him and the crazy broken girl with the eating disorder who he had never met. That was the truth - he had no clue who I really was - and that was the deal breaker.

Despite all this I decided to pursue Theo. We had been texting since that night, initiated by me of course, and often getting very flirty and pushing the boarders of acceptable. I asked him out for a drink one eve after work and was very surprised when he agreed. I was almost certain he wouldn't have wanted to start dating anyone from work, simply because he'd been quite anxious for there to be no awkwardness or bad feelings between us which would distract him from work or get him into shit.

We set the date for Thursday.

...

"So for him, I'll do it again."

I walked to the train station the next morning after our date in a daze. It was pitch black with a slight drizzle, and judging by everyone's coats and scarves it was probably freezing cold too, but being so steaming drunk I was still burning like a furnace inside.

I walked with an odd sense of pride in my step.
Now, I felt like a real City Girl.
Just like the ones I'd been reading about who rolled into work still drunk and wearing makeup from the night before.

I had left the office just after 5pm that Thursday evening in the City of London. I stood delicately outside the entrance doors and looked around vulnerably. I couldn't see him anywhere.
Then I looked across the street.
He was crossing towards me.
I smiled, my eyes misty.
My God.
He was crossing towards me in perfect City Boy gear, white shirt and red tie to complete the suit ensemble.
An hour later I sent Rihanna and Millie a joyous message: "Omg he's so pretty. Kill me now."
It was only 6pm and I was already drunk - clearly not eating for two days had been a great idea...

The evening started off pleasantly, we got on, despite my nerves, there were never any awkward moments. Things started to get more heated as we got more drunk. We had our own table on an upper balcony, he made me smile and laugh and burn with joy. His hands ran along my body with so much desire and pleasure. His kisses were long and hungry. Once we started making out, it was impossible to stop. It was like we were in our own world again.

That evening I started to see a shred of vulnerability which I was drawn to immediately.
Outside the bar as we smoked, the bouncer commented on the way I looked and jokingly said to Theo, "Woah mate you are punching WAY above your weight with her!" I smiled but at the same time felt uneasy. He was openly attacking Theo in front of me and I didn't want him to think for an instance that he wasn't good enough for me. Too late. The seed of doubt had been planted.
"Why do you like me?" he asked when we were back inside.
I looked at him tenderly and shrugged, "I don't know, I just do. I either like someone or I don't." And I took him through all the moments that had led to me falling for him more and more.
He then began to worry about his figure. "You have such a good body - it's motivation for me to get in shape. I have to start working out more. When I look at myself naked it's horrible. What do you find attractive about me?!"
I reassured him. "Look, I'm very fussy, you know that, I don't just go for anyone. It takes a lot for me to like someone. And I like you."

I didn't ever want him to remember the words that bouncer had told him. I'm not in an objective position to say whether Theo is in 'the same league' as me, but I do know for certain that is absolutely not the way I feel. I feel like his equal, on a level with him in so many ways, on so many wavelengths. I don't care if he's not perfect. I don't care. I don't ever want him to think he's not good enough for me - because fucking hell I know exactly what that feels like.

When it got to midnight I looked at the rosy pink cocktail in front of me and shook my head.
"I can't drink it. I'm really sorry, I need to eat."
We left and walked again, several minutes later perched on a ledge enjoying a chicken burger like it was the most beautiful experience in the world. I apologised profusely but it didn't even seem to matter. A deserted street, intimate moments in the silent night.
He held me so tight, I could feel the vibrations of how much he wanted me and I wanted him to have me, completely.

I got in a taxi home at 1.30am. We had work the next day. I was so sad to leave him.

The next morning I couldn't stop smiling, I was glowing with happiness. I'd found someone that made me feel alive and excited about living again. It had been so long.

Ophelia is smiling. Ophelia is smiling. Daydreaming about the boy she kissed and held on to all last night. Ophelia is too happy to be scared about what pain might ensue.

He told me I had an amazing body.
My God, it's like a fucking drug.
I want to hear it over and over again, I want to feel his hands tasting every inch of me in bliss.
I drank juice and laxatives for two days before our date that Thursday evening. This whole weekend afterwards I've faced the terrible aftermath, my digestive system keeping me up all night getting rid of the death inside me.
Ran for 3 hours on Saturday, gym and swimming pool on Sunday.
For the man that loves me enough I will kill myself with joy. I will make sure that he never wants to let my body go.

Praying for a survivor out there

If there is ANYONE out there who has recovered from an eating disorder...
And I mean COMPLETEY recovered, back to the pure, normal, natural way of eating and thinking that you were when you were first born...

PLEASE, I need you to reach out to me. And tell me it can be done. Because I simply cannot believe it otherwise.

"When I want something, I go after it"

Ok. Long story short. I slept with Theo on Friday night.

In a hotel room.
In Kings Cross.

I'm not really sure how to continue with this story, but I suppose I must find a way to express it all and come to terms with it...

Theo works in the same department as Gareth and Cassio - in the same team as Cassio in fact. And I've said it before, I fancied him the first day I saw him, and even more so when I spent much of the evening chatting to him at the usual office drinks one Friday after work. In terms of character and background he is exactly the type I always go for - exactly the type of boy I hung out with at University, exactly the type of boy I eye up in their suits on the way to work, exactly the type of boy I click with and have banter with and laugh with...
plus it helped that he was easily one of the best looking guys in the office. 'Geek chic', Rhianna calls it, 'with those geeky glasses, but it totally works for him, he's cute.' I smiled at this remark - it's very rare for Rhianna to approve of a guy, her standards are very high.

So, look, I'll be completely blunt. I wanted him, I wanted him when I saw him, I wanted him when I chatted to him, I never stopped wanting him. The only problem was, how to get him... I needed to get him in a situation where it might be possible for something to happen between us. The usual after work drinks on a Friday was never any good - always too many people, standing around in a bar... but this Friday it was Rhianna and Millie's joint birthday celebrations - a few people from the office were coming out and then we were going to go on to a club. It was the perfect opportunity, I knew it, the perfect opportunity to get him out, get talking again, get drunk, dance...

Easy. On Thursday I sent him an email at work: You free tomorrow after work? Millie and Rhianna's birthday drinks... be awesome if you come! Let me know.
He replied: Sure - sounds good. I'm not in work tomorrow, drop me your number and I'll meet you guys there.

Oh God, finally. I cleaned out my bloated body with laxatives and didn't eat or drink a drop. Standard procedure.

On Thursday afternoon Cassio sent me a message telling me he had got me a present and asked me to go for a drink with him after work so he could give it to me.
I ignored his message guiltily.
I wanted to keep my body empty and go to bed early so that I was perfect for Friday night. He sent me another message asking for a reply. The guy had got me a present. Fuck. I couldn't say no.
I told him I would come for one drink and that it would have to be a simple fruit juice.
We chatted as we always did, it was nice as it always is. There is nothing between us though, at least not for me, I simply am not attracted to him, and it's purely a mis-match of personality and character - so there are no sparks, there is no lust. He had got me a Lawyers Latin Dictionary and he had written a little message in the front, in Latin. It was an incredibly sweet gesture, and served to only make me feel even more guilty. I finished up my drink and made my excuses to go. As soon as I walked away I forgot about him instantly. All I could think about was Theo and Friday night.

I spent Friday in agony. I wouldn't even allow myself water, I wanted to dry out and be as thin as possible. When 5:30 finally came we went to the bathroom to start getting ready. I slipped on a new dress I had bought earlier that week, my blowdried hair in tumbling curls over my shoulders. I'd sneaked off to have a massage at lunchtime to get me in the mood and open up my shoulders...

When I walked back out the reaction was amazing. I'd never been so complimented in my life. I walked through the office knowing all eyes were on me. And I loved it, loved it, loved it, loved it. This is what I lived for, this was what I was killing myself for, this was everything I had worked so hard for and been through so much blood, sweat and tears for. And you know I'm not going to lie, you know I'm not going to pretend to be modest. It is SO worth it. Being THAT girl.
Finally.

"Wow!"
"Seriously, Ophelia, fucking hell!"
"Shit!"
"Oh my God... you look Stunning."


"Aw. Thanks hun, bless you."

I felt so strong, invincible almost, all I needed was a guy to play this out on. Where was he?
Being the girl with all eyes on me wasn't enough, I needed a guy to make me feel it inside too.
Where was he?

I chatted and laughed and drank with the usual crowd from work, Chris was there, flirting as we always did. We'd been out since 6:00pm... by 6:30, 7:00, still no word from Theo, I'd sent him my number but I didn't have his so I couldn't chase him up.
"He's not coming is he..."
Rhianna shook her head. "Probably not."

At 7:30, my phone, which I'd been holding in my hand in anticipation all evening, began to ring.
"Sorry, hun," I said to Chris mid-conversation, "I have to take this..."
It was Theo. He'd he told me he'd be there in 45 mins.

Beaming and full of adrenaline, I took my usual spot in front of the mirrors in the toilets. On rare occasions, I can look in the mirror and adore what I see; maybe it was the alcohol burning in my eyes, but this was one of those times. I loved what I saw, this was the best I'd ever looked, surely, and he was coming, he was coming, I could play my game out!

He arrived and I told him to wait for me outside. He was having a cigarette. I handed him a drink. It wasn't long till other members of the crowd wandered outside for a cigarette too and another girl latched straight on to him. I made my excuses and went back to the mirrors in the toilets. I must have gone and stood in front of the mirrors about 10 times in the short time we were in that one location.
When I came back out he was at the bar chatting to another girl from work. I was pissed off, but I wasn't bothered, none of these other girls from work had anything on me. My only competition in that department was Millie and Rhianna, and they both had their own men and would never tread on my toes if I liked a guy. So I chatted with Chris again, and other guys from work that I got on with. It was all fun and easy, me and Rhianna were laughing, then suddenly, in came a group of guys. Guys from Theo's department, Gareth in the middle.
I swore.
"Oh my God."
Rhianna laughed loudly, "Fuck!" She turned to explain to her friend, "Ophelia went out with him once" she pointed to Gareth, "and now shes trying to get with him" she pointed to Theo.

I played it cool, welcomed the group of guys and stood my ground cooly.
"Gareth! Hey! How are you? Long time no see!"
He bumbled and mumbled.
"Good! Cool!" I gushed confidently and passionately.
I had no idea what he was saying and I had no interest in what he was saying. The fact is, he was here now and it was slightly unfortunate - for him. He got to see how hot I was, and think about how he had missed his little chance of having me. I'd moved on.

People were starting to move on to the next bar, a City favourite. Theo was still holding the drink I'd given him when he first arrived.
"Oh my God - drink up!" I exclaimed to both him and Gareth in unison. "Come on, come on, we're moving on! I'm way more drunk than you!"
I left without him in tow. I couldn't be that obvious and that desperate. In the next bar I thought I'd lost him, and then I saw him through the crowd, standing at the bar with one of the other girls from work. I hesitated for a split second, before realising that actually, I didn't give a damn. I pushed my way through the throng and over to them.
"Ophelia!" said the girl as I reached them, "What's your star sign?"
"Libra..."
"Excellent!! There you go, perfect match!" And she gave us both a knowing wink and sauntered off.
I looked at Theo awkwardly, "er well..."
"Drink?"
"Of course!"

Millie came over and gave Theo a dirty look. "I don't like him, he's an arrogant cock. And I'm not coming to Mayfair , I don't want to go and pay for expensive drinks in some pretentious place."
I defended Theo, particularly because she didn't even know him and was judging him on gossip. One of the guys from work, James, had got us a table at a club in Mayfair but was keeping it on the low as he could only get a small number of us in. Since Millie was refusing to go, it was just going to be James, his two mates, Rhianna and her friend, and me and Theo. I told James I wasn't going unless he got Theo in too.

As Theo slipped away to the toilet briefly, Rhianna came over. "Ophelia, we're moving on, James has got us the table at the club in Mayfair, but we have to go now, get Theo and come. We'll wait for you outside."
When he came back I told him to drink up. "We're moving on again." I didn't give him a choice, I didn't give him a chance to say no. "Rhianna and the others are waiting for us outside, come on."
I boldly took hold of his hand and led him across the bar to the exit. I didn't care who saw me leading him out. I loved the feel of his hand in mine and I loved letting the world know that he was with me.

Much of the night from here on was a blur. Inside the club, the atmosphere was perfect, I was with Theo, we drank, we danced, I didn't shy away from making it clear that we were together.
"I'm so glad you came! I didn't think you'd come." It was true, I didn't think he would come. Why would he come out with a girl he barely knew, why would he spend the evening dancing with me...

The music was loud, I could feel the beat pulsing through my body, my brain couldn't think about anything, it could only feel. I could feel Theo and I could feel the music and I could feel the alcohol numbing my inhibitions. I felt free as a wild bird in the wilderness.
"Why haven't you kissed him yet!" Rhianna exclaimed pushing us together.

We danced, his hands around my waist, feeling my body, the body I wanted him to feel, he loved it, I know he loved it. I wanted to believe that he'd never been with a girl with a body as good as mine, I wanted him to think that he would never have sex with anyone as good as me, I wanted him to believe that, I wanted him to know that.
I stopped against a pillar and smiled at him. I looked straight into his eyes and held his gaze. I wasn't going to make a move on him. He had to be the man, he had to do it.
I saw the same thought flash across his mind. She wants me to kiss her.
He put his hands on my waist and drew me in
and kissed me.

For the rest of the night we danced and kissed and smoked and kissed.
It was perfect.
"So where do you have to go home to?" he asked.
"South London."
"Wow, bit of a trek."
I shrugged. "It's ok I do it all the time, besides I don't have a choice."
"Yes you do."
"Really? What?" I stared at him.
"We could get a hotel room."
I said nothing.

Theo was in the middle of moving out and was staying with his parents in the meantime. I couldn't take him back to mine and he couldn't take me back to his.
I was both pleased and taken aback by his forwardness. He wasn't afraid to ask and put it out there.
I looked at him in anguish.
"I..."
"It's up to you. If you want to go home, I'll see you on to your night bus," he said reassuringly.
I put my hands to my head in shame. "Good girls don't behave like I do. When I want something, I go after it. And good girls don't do that."
"It's fine, don't be silly. But I don't want you to do something you'll regret."
"I won't regret it... but... I don't know that I can have sex with you and then for nothing to happen after that."
I was honest. I didn't want a one night stand with Theo, I liked him way more than that.

We walked through London while I battled with myself, eventually conceding that I wanted to have sex with him more than I wanted or was able to think about the consequences. As much as I successfully played the confident, straight-talking girl who knew what she wanted, the truth was a lot different. I wasn't able to ask him outright if he wanted to sleep with me and then for nothing to ever happen between us again. I wasn't able to ask him because I was too afraid of the answer.

We got in a cab and went to a hotel in Kings Cross.
The room cost £140. We split the payment.

In the morning we cuddled and chatted, laughed and played. It was beautiful to lie in his arms, just like I did once with the boy I loved.
I wanted to stay in that bed with him forever.
I wanted what I had had with Alex back.
He wasn't Alex, but we still had it. Something different, but still something that made me feel good.

I wanted to speak to him about the situation but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to ask the questions that needed to be asked.
And I sit here writing this still not knowing.
We checked out of the hotel at noon and I called Rhianna as soon as I was on the train home.
"It's fine," I said, "we're totally cool, it's not going to be awkward at all."
"Well ok, if you're sure. I know you've wanted him for absolutely ages so good for you!"

So these are the questions I am faced with:
Do I really like Theo? Do I really want him? Is he just another guy, another game, or do I really like him more than that?
Do I want to pursue him? Do I want to face the risk of rejection and the inevitable awkwardness that will ensue at work?

After a week of restricting, exercise and laxatives to ensure I fitted into my tiny dress on Friday, I spent the whole weekend eating again. This trend is frustrating me. Starving during the week and then bingeing and purging all weekend after a drunken Friday night. It has to stop. It has to stop. I'm killing myself. I'm living fast and dying pretty.
I'm killing myself so I can live the life I always dreamed of.
At school I wasn't attractive, I wasn't confident and I wasn't popular. And all my life since then I have dremed of being one of the elite, a 'popular girl'.
That evening, one of the guys at work jokingly called me, Millie and Rhianna the 'Mean Girls' because we were the popular party girls, always out, everyone knew our names and everyone knew we ruled the roost. I beamed because I realised that I'd finally become the girl I'd spent my teenage years wishing I could be. I'd moulded myself to fit that character perfectly.
I'm finally sitting pretty at the top and I love it there.

The only problem is what comes with that. All the guys at work think I'm a fun-loving bitch, a party girl who loves being single, loves playing the game, loves going out and having a good time.
"You give out that impression Ophelia, and guys don't want that, sometimes being shy and vulnerable is good. Theo won't see you as girlfriend material - unless he thinks he can be the one to tame you," said Millie to me the morning after.
I hung my head sadly. I played that character in front of all the guys at work. I played that character in front of guys full stop.
"I play that girl because I'm so insecure. I want them to believe that I have the power and that I'm in control."
"But you don't - the truth is that you would love a boyfriend and to be treated well."
"I know... but I don't like showing guys that side of me. I don't want them to feel that I'm weaker than them and that they have the power to make me feel loved."
"I think you should show him who you really are. Text him and say that the girl you played on Friday isn't the real you and that you want him to know that. At least that way, if he rejects you, you'll know he's rejecting the real you, rather than some fake character you played."



Theo. Theo has brown hair, a cute face and personality that caused us to click the moment we first spoke. He's not perfect.
But I don't care. He doesn't have the perfect body, and we didn't have the most mind-blowing sex. And ironically, even though that's what I value myself by, I don't care about that with him.
I want him in a deeper way. He makes me crave the relationship I had with Alex, the time we spent laughing and cuddling in bed, the comfort, lying there under the sheets, blissfully cut off from the rest of the world.

The bed we loved in was a spinning world
of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas
where we would dive for pearls.

I killed myself for him, yes, pushed my body to the physical limits over the week, for him, stuffed myself into the little perfect mould. I wanted to be the best for him, I wanted him to want me more than anything.
It was the first time that I had killed myself for a guy and felt his hands and eyes appreciate it.
So for him, I'll do it again.
(Also, for those of you who were wondering, Aiden bailed last Sunday. Had to have dinner with his sister.
Whatever. Not bothered. Moved on.)

Who is Ophelia now?

I studied a book at University called ‘Spasm’ in which the author suggests that someone might create an illness because she ‘knows no other way of telling her life’s tale...the illness a conduit to convey real pain.’
Is that what my eating disorder is to me? The desire to stuff my face and throw up, the need to run until my feet are blistered raw, the buzz from fasting and curling up in a ball locked in the toilet cubical - are these desires created or born from the inner pain I had for so many years and had no way of expressing or feeling physically?

Cassio is in the dangerous position of making me remember who I am. I am the girl who devoured books and poetry, wandered around the galleries alone, writing, dreaming, opening up her bare, raw soul to the harsh elements of Art. He is a culture snob. Fine dining, classical music, expensive clothes, European languages, European cities. He could never love London like I do, even as an Italian, his heart will always belong, not to Rome or Venice, but to Paris. We talk about all these things, all the things I used to hold so close to my heart. That’s why I studied English Literature at University. But I chose to walk away from it all.

I came home, exhausted and emotional last Friday night and pulled out Sylvia Plath from my bookshelf and went to sleep listening to her recording of ‘Fever 103’. It was the first time I’d touched literature since I started in The City back in July and it reminded me that literature was the only thing that could make me feel what I was feeling. At least the last time I was working in The City I used to have time during my journey in and out of work to read a couple of chapters. Now all I read are the business pages, reports and analysis, news journals and magazines. I walked away from everything I used to love, everything in my heart, everything I am – was.

Of course I still love it. But I’m not going back. When I speak to people now, I tell them my biggest regret was letting my love take over me. I tell them I wasted three years of my life studying something pointless. Who cares that I have views on Shakespeare and Romantic Literature? That won’t make me money, that won’t get me a job, that won’t earn me respect.

But Cassio brings it back to me. He talks of his friends in the large investment banks with disdain. He tells me that the glamour I dream of is a lie. It’s all sleeplessness and overwork. He speaks of the beauty of Paris, the importance of culture and beauty. He makes me miss all the things I used to love and treasure.


My business trip to Dubai has been amazing. I was so anxious in the run up to going as I was travelling and meeting clients on my own, but I did it. The little girl from South London held her own; fearless. I walked away realising that there was simply nothing I could be afraid of now, nothing. I flew out alone, held meetings at funds and banks alone, holding court with men twice my age and experience. I did it. Brimming over with pride and relief after every day came to an end. I did it. I'm doing it. I've done it. There is nothing I can be afraid of now.

A year ago I wrote in this blog that I had lost everything, I shut my eyes at night praying that I wouldn’t wake up the next day. And honestly, I don’t know what it was inside me, but I didn’t die, I didn’t give up, I came back and I’ve achieved things I never even dared to dream. I achieved all this because I walked away from the avant garde, the love of Art, beauty. I would have been a penniless author like those I read about on Grub Street. There’s a reason why all the greatest writers and artists were mad or depressed – that’s what philosophy does to you. Living in the real world, cutting off those sensations, numbing the desire to read and write and feel... that is what has enabled me to take flight in the world of business.

So you see, I can’t go back. I can’t go back to that girl that you probably used to love to read about. Ophelia, the classic form, tragically broken and fragile, clambering for beauty, for the flowers which I hung about my room in ecstasy. That Ophelia was also the girl in the dressing gown, underneath her duvet, alone in an ice cold house, a floor strewn with images in magazines and a laptop full of written dreams. That is not my vision of success.

The only downside to the 'success' I've felt in the last few months is that once a bulimic, always a bulimic. The events of last Friday night threw me off the edge and into a spiral of uncontrollable bingeing and purging. Over and over and over again. During my time in the Middle East I dined on 5* food every night. And threw up 5* food every night. I came back to London looking like a whale, unable to control my intake, unable to put the fork down and say no. A typical poor person’s attitude to food; put me in front of a buffet that I don’t have to pay for and I want to make sure I get everything I can out of it. “I’ll never get to eat like this again when I go back home...” straight back to my hotel room, clean out the mini bar and stick my fingers down my throat until it’s all gone.


* * *


On Friday the lawyer, Aiden, sent me a message telling me he was finally going to be in town on Sunday. ‘Passing through' London, and his first port of call is to let me know.
Shame that I feel like a gross monster after a week of bingeing and purging extremis. But who knows when he will be 'passing through' next? I had to say yes, I'll be around on Sunday and I'll meet you for a coffee (lame on the coffee front but I take what I can get). Besides, it's nice to be chased for a change.
I was supposed to be knockout beautiful when I met up with him. I'm not going to be. But I have to get it over and done with.

I ran for two and a half hours yesterday to prepare, to try and deflate some of the weight which I had put on in the last week. I ran along the Embankment, Hyde Park, Kensington Gardens, Green Park... back round to my gym in the square mile. I hobbled into the sauna and came out clutching at the handrail along the stairs, the world reeling about me. I felt so sick. Locked myself into the private changing cubicle, laid out my towel and sat on the floor. Horrified. I put my body through this, and look, still a roll of fat on my tummy, look, look. There is still fat on your body. All the miles you've run, all the good work, the bulimia will always undo it. Bulimia will always keep you fat. Last Friday I reached my lowest weight since I was 15. Lost control, binged for a week, and saw a dial on the scales go right back up again.
On the train back home I had to press my hand to my mouth to stop myself from vomiting all over the floor. Vomiting on public transport during the day is just so not done. I nearly didn’t make it. It was the cocktail of a banana smoothie and lucozade drink which I had after my run. Internal violence.



It’s Sunday lunchtime now and I have heard no word from Aiden. Poor form either way. To keep me hanging and waiting around or to pull out and bail on me. I don’t know which yet, but both are just as bad.

Today I feel very numb. And it’s almost as if I couldn’t give a damn. He is just some guy I put my body through hell for yesterday. So what. Even if he does message me now, I’m tempted to say it’s too late notice, made other plans now, sorry. My life moves at 100 miles an hour, you get one chance to catch me. I'll kill myself for you, but I'll only do it once.