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'Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, She turns to favour and to prettiness'

Have you seen the fasting? It's beautiful.
There's a light on in the kitchen. She's trying to get out.
The fake sugar chemicals turn black inside me - blacker than blood.
I shut my eyes last night and felt a feeling in my hands. The feeling travelled up my arm and I thought... this was it, I was going, everything was shutting down at last.
I put down my writing pad and pencil and shed tears for him.
But I didn't care if I was leaving - he is young, he'll forget - I didn't mind if I didn't wake up.
I positively wanted it.

I'm terrible, and I'm horrible, I know,
but recovery is not an option.

I can't believe people recover from this.
I'm so far away.
I want to call you. Alex. I want to tell you the truth about how bad it is.

What's wrong with me.


I took photos of myself on my phone today.

I couldn't believe it.

I really, couldn't believe how true it was.
The mirror is kinder than the camera. The mirror has angles and dimensions.
The camera is brutal. If I hated what I saw in the mirror, then I can only describe the pictures on my phone as revulsion.

I am embarassed; truly EMBARASSED to call myself Ophelia.
I'm a fat lump.

I am disgusted at what I have let myself become - no, not even that, I've hardly become this - this half a stone heavier than my lightest weight all year - essentially I've been walking around like this ALL FUCKING YEAR - all my fucking adult life.

I should have been more brutal to myself before. I should have these pictures printed out and stuck in every corner of the house. I should put these pictures on my blog. Because I deserve the fucking shame.
But I am too disgusted and too humiliated.


You know what has done this to me?
Food
That four letter F word.
Filthy and Foul and Fetid Food.
I look at my body now and all I see is food - bread dough plastered all over my belly, cookie dough rolling all around my thighs, marshmallows puffing out my face.
I don't see the body of an athlete or runner; I see the body of an eater.

I'm back, I'm really, really back.


Labels:

Comments

  1. Alice D20 May 2010 at 22:32

    It sounds like you need a hug. :(

    ReplyDelete
  2. Grace20 May 2010 at 23:34

    I feel the same way, and it sucks.

    I really need the determination like you have, because it can't go on for much longer.

    *hugs*

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ana's Girl21 May 2010 at 23:28

    I don't think anyone can ever fully recover from this. The people who say they've recovered are just hiding and ignoring their urges to come back to the way we are.
    Cameras are horrid things. They make everything look so much worse than the mirror ever could. Pure torture.
    And i see the same exact thing when i look at my own body. It's all made up of food.
    How do we fix it? How do we get rid of the awful feelings it gives us? I guess all we can do is just try our best to stay strong.

    ReplyDelete
  4. JK22 May 2010 at 04:55

    you are by far the strongest person i know.... /xo

    ReplyDelete

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