Home. I am finally home. My unhappy sanctuary. I have come home for the last time. I used to pack my bags on Thursday afternoons when I was at university and get the cheap train home for a long weekend. It was worth the hassle and the long journey just to have a house to shut myself up in alone – a house where things were ordered and sober – where there were no men; no threats, no temptations. Home was the only place where I could cover up my body beneath a thick duvet and forget that it existed. It was a difficult two weeks at camp as you can no doubt tell from my last post. I got away at most mealtimes with just eating vegetables and fruit. There were many arguments as usual, but I give up now… I have yet to meet anyone (in the flesh) who understands and supports my desire to better myself. Perfection, to everyone I know, seems to be a mere fiction in a world that proudly accepts its disgusting self. If it weren’t for this blog, my followers, commenters, I would never be able to beli...
The City Girl Made of Glass - The true story of a girl burning up under the glare of the bright lights of The City of London