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I love having an eating disorder.
I must do.
Else why would I do it. You don't do something you don't want to.

I didn't want to do my job. I quit.
It's easy...

If I take the job at the Investment Bank, I'm moving out, I'm going 'back on the crazy, fit men and alcohol'.
If I turn the job down, I'm staying here with my Mum, and reading books.

I choose to live. Or I choose to stop living.
I told my Mum my choices. So after shouting at me for wasting money on rent she has stopped speaking to me and pretends I don't exist.
(Yes. This is what I deal with.)

If it wasn't for my Mum I'd have jumped. I live so that she doesn't have to bear anymore loss or suffering in her life. But she kills me in another way.
I never write much about her. I won't now.

I want to live, you know. I want it back.
I opened up my cupboard and ran my hands through my vast collection of beautiful dresses and clothes. Stacks of shoes, dainty accessories, shelves of cosmetics – all from a lost era. I don't need them any more - not now I've stopped living.  I wear the same patterns of shirt and skirt and shoes to work. I scrape my hair back. I wear glasses and foundation. No contact lenses, no careful make up, no changing hairstyles, no pretty dresses.

All the ‘props’ are not needed anymore – for I have no man in the audience. I got down off the stage, I stripped away the costume, the mask, because I had nobody to act for - nobody to watch me.

Isn’t that dreadful – I can only be bothered to live for a man.
After Alex left my life I made a conscious effort to get away from the world around me to try and find a source of happiness inside myself - and it isn’t there. And that's why I want to live again.
Well, I was more alive than I am now.
a source of happiness... alcohol. men. clubs. dresses.

Violence. Violence keeps cropping up. I keep craving violence.
I don't want to commit suicide, I want to be killed, murdered.
I keep visioning someone plunging a knife between my ribs - in- out. I can hear the sound of it. The swift action. The crumble.
I want someone to beat me up until I'm bruised all over. Today I cut myself accidentally - it was more euphoric than self-harm.
I keep feeling two hands on my upper chest pinning me down. Yes, I want that. Hands sliding up towards my throat...harder.
They are always man's hands. Alex's hands... I want it to be Alex.

I've never had these thoughts or visions before. It's all linked to the dream about D last week, somehow. I don't know what it means.

I spoke to another idiot today who thinks I'm going to meet up with him for drinks when he's back in the country at Christmas. I have to sleep in a cold big double bed was his last message.
It's beyond stupid now. I reply out of politeness. And so they hunt. 

That's some brilliant stage show they must have been watching before


  1. "I love having an eating disorder.
    I must do.
    Else why would I do it."
    I have never thought to ask myself that before...

    Learning to live independantly is hard, but it would be worth it to not have to rely on men and alcohol. To feel strong enough yourself.

    You say you feel like you have to put on a show :(
    I think it was very smart of you to start this blog.
    This is one places where you definitely do not have to be something that you are not. No acting or masks or costumes. Just you <3

  2. yeah right this is your site you are not writing for anyone but yourself - but as you still allow comments; it might make you a lot happier if you for once would just waste A THOUGHT for someone else. you are obsessed with yourself. you can't give, you give just to recieve.that will never make you happy. and no matter how good you look this will always make you unattractive after a while.

  3. I have violent thoughts too, Its weird. Not sure why but I do.
    I get what you mean about not needed in to 'ACT' and put on a show since no one is watching.

    I think allot of girls who have a lack of self confidence like male attention since it makes us feel worth while rather than unnoticed.


  4. I´ve been commenting as *Flor* here, Yesterdy I decided to make my own blog.
    Yeah, I know what you mean about not needing to act...
    Living for others makes you not live, I know ´cause I also live for others. Finding life in oneself is really hard, but I relly think you can do that.
    Take care hon


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