A Head Full of Beauty

"Do you hate Harry?" asked Rob, "No." "Well, I just thought... you just said you hated men, that Harry might be one... because you haven't seen him since..." "I don't know the guy. How can I hate him." I retorted aggressively. "Ok, ok" he said, surrendering, "I only have myself to blame for everything with Harry. I only have myself to blame." We were sitting on the top of One New Change again eating our salads. I was angry. Talking about relationships always made me angry. I hate men, it's true, I hate them, I hate them for the power they have over me, the desire that I can't control, the need that I have for them. I hate men. I hate all the men that I have starved for, thrown up for, taken laxatives for, exercised for, wasted my money for and wasted my precious time on. I hate them all for leaving me with nothing but a sick, empty, worthless feeling in the pit of my rotten stomach. All the men that I have neve...

My head never shuts down. If I could only find the switch, turn myself off, I could start living in the real world again, I'm convinced of it... but maybe there isn't a switch. Something I saw on jd's blog struck a real chord with me, I thought it was perfect: For a head so full of words and emotion, so much of my life is consumed by numbers. the numbers game Calories. I can't remember the last time I forgot about numbers in my head. I must have been so young. I wonder sometimes, about the whole genetics argument - that some people are more predisposed to eating disorders than others - we have the genes for it so to speak. Was I born this way? No... I'm sure I can't have been, but at the same time I'm acutely aware that I've always had the symptoms and the character and personality for it. I was never like other little girls. I tortured myself mentally for not looking perfect. I tortured myself for being 'fat' when I was a skinny littl...

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 angle...