A Head Full of Beauty

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...

Why, oh why has Ophelia been posting so much? I drifted so far away recently, posting once a week, once a fortnight.... Well, truth be told, Alex has locked me out of my facebook account in an attempt to get me to concentrate on revision. Oh yes - exams! Exams... seven to be precise - three hours each - the day after each other. excellent... So instead of sitting at my laptop pressing the 'refresh' button on my facebook homepage and seeing what uninteresting things my 480 'friends' have been doing, I have been sitting on blogger, reading old blogs, reading new blogs, commenting here and there, and of course, posting my usual rubbish! I used to be a good blogger - good to read, good at replying - an attentive blogger, a caring blogger. I think it's the slide from Ana to Mia. Ana makes for a good blogger, and Mia makes for a very bad one. Lets face it, what is inspirational about a wobbly white girl stuffing her face and spewing? This is the most messed up my li...

Apologies for being absent for so long. The past week has been... crazy, emotional, sleepless... exciting . I've been writing everything in my notebook - It's been necessary for me to still write about everything even though I have been unable to sit down at a computer and update this blog. So, what follows are my entries and self-analysis from the past week, dated when they were originally written... Monday 22 nd March - Things As They Stand I've known a few guys who would have given the world for Ophelia - they would have been great boyfriends to me... But I never deemed them good enough. Conversely, I have known many, many more guys who wanted nothing to do with me - except conquer me for a quick meaningless shag. So yes, I've been liked by so many guys, some superficially, some more deeply. People who don't know me can't believe I've been single for nearly four years now. Four years. It's true; I've been the subject of so much male attention a...

I'm trying to work out exactly where my life went from bulimic, dull, law-student to starving, vivacious, teenager... (again).... ...Oh that was it, meeting D and deciding to stay at ''the Club'' and socialise with them... I am back to being the crazy, drunk, fun-loving girl I was at University (as a result of being a member of "the Club'' at university.) Ohh I managed to resist the temptations of a lustful life for so long! I came to London and law school with such good intentions! I even came to "the Club'' in London with good intentions - to be boring, and do my job and go home! I avoided all men and all alcohol. (If you read all my old posts back, you'll see, if it hadn't been for me sleeping with Hugh last week, I'd be about to hit a one year dry spell in the sex department!) But now, men and lust and alcohol are back in my life with a vengeance - reminding me just how much I missed them. And my flirty, hedonistic persona...

There are tears stinging the backs of my eyelids every time I shut my eyes to pause. This world is hurting me so much. The truth is, I'm living, I'm so very much alive, so fit, so healthy, at my peak... except I'm doing it for the spectres that haunt me and keep my blood running so cold. I am a living eating disorder. That's it. There's nothing else left in my head anymore. You know, I'd give anything, to update my facebook status to say really 'what's on my mind'. Don't you ever just want to scream at the top of your voice. "PLEASE HELP ME. Underneath this pretty blush and giddy personality I'm dying, I'm torturing myself, I'm killing myself. Please fucking help me." I've reached the stage where I can't eat anything without throwing it up. The only reason I'm not losing weight is because my initial intake is so much that I can't be getting even half the calories back up anymore. I'm 22 years old and my l...

I've told D that I'm going to go to his on Thursday. But I'm still too fat. So I may postpone it till Friday. Or Monday. Or never. Wouldn't it just be so much easier if I deleted him from my head, never heard from him again, never thought of him evermore. Oops, sorry D, I forgot you existed. I went shopping today, with him in mind. Every time I remembered one of his messages and remembered something sweet he had said, I smiled - a great, big, sunny, daydream smile. The goddamn boy makes me smile . And yet, now, I just want to cry. I binged. I am too fat to go and see him, too fat to go and wow him. I am a terrible fuck up. It is too late, again. I messed up, I missed the deadline, I gave in. I fucked it up. I will not go and see him at this weight. I would be humiliated. The experience would crush me. I really want this. God, even just thinking about him makes me happier than I've been since the countryside days I spent with James back in the Summer of 2008. That wa...

I've been wanting to write for days now. But it's all been quite depressing. And everything I wanted to write about... has somehow disappeared from my head... All I know is that I feel quite dead. This week is going to be hell. Quite simply, full on, full throttle, burning hell. Ok. I've got to submit my first assessment next Monday - one week away. Ok. That's ok, you know, it's ok. A week is ages. I used to knock out essays in a day at uni. I know my topic, I know what I have to do, I just have to do it. And I will. Fuck the rest of the shit in my life. I WANT TO BE TOP OF MY CLASS IN EVERY SINGLE ASSESSMENT. Perhaps more than anything I want to prove a point. Ask any member of my class who the least intelligent person is and I guarantee every single one would say me (yes I know I have an inferiority complex/paranoia anyway but I still think they genuinely believe this.) And I know it's my fault that they and my tutors all probably think this - because of the w...

Little sparks of happiness... from an ashen grey wreckage... my world... Yes there are bright little sparks sometimes which jolt sensation back into my fingertips. When I finally found the courage to go back to law school this week after over a week of hiding away, I felt foolish. It was fabulous to be back. Fabulous because I was just normal. I just forgot about my eating. I chatted and laughed, saw my friends again, felt emotion again and wasn’t alone anymore. I don’t have to be alone and miserable. Behind the fastened doors of my silent home is an incredibly vibrant world. Living. Every time I need to get somewhere in the City of London, I walk. Just to fall in love with the spirited streets, the structures, the history, the visions, the pulse. Breathtaking. But I admire the sights on my own – because I prefer it that way. I was 17 when, as a heart-broken teenager waiting for him to text me back, I fell in love with the City. I stepped off the train at 09:30 and disappeared. It was ...

Mmm it's not so bad sometimes, is it? And the second I've written that, the tummy rumbles - it is such an attention seeker. Well I'm gonna teach it a lesson by ignoring it's pathetic cries. My fast is still going well and I am still smiling! Instead of raging headaches and wanting to sleep, I just feel really healthy and happy. I had a day off from all activity yesterday. I am a bad, bad person, but to make up for it, I enjoyed a killer session in the gym today. 600 calories on the treadmill alone and then 1,000 metres in the pool. Usually I'm knackered by the time I get into the swimming pool (always my last activity) but today I was just hammering out the laps easily... can't explain it, but certainly not gonna grumble! I've always had severe hangups about the size of my arms and rather than moaning about it, I've taken to spending that little bit extra time in the gym to use all the machines that work out the arms.Even in the last week alone I'v...

I seem to have been pretty on track recently. But what a blatant, disgusting lie to write that now. I have been on track and I would still be if it weren't for men alcohol and my stupid need for attention. I showed them what they were missing. A perfect slim dress with ruffles, red ribbon, red shoes, dark hair over my shoulders, sultry makeup. I surrounded myself with boys who couldn't have me. I was out of their league. I thrive on that adrenaline beat of the dancefloor . My life revolves around what I become in that space and who other people perceive me to be. I am the one they want. But I'm not, not at all, not really, not in the harsh reality of sober daylight. But I know for that space of time, I am something. I am vibrant and alive, you can touch me and I can respond. In the club, under the artificial lights, I am not beauty or fragility, I am desire... a sensual but sordid desire. It's now 7am. I was supposed to be on a coach back home to London for the weekend ...

Hmm sorry for the last post. I tend to go all crazy, manic, poetic style when I hit the depth of hell. So last night was the biggest breakdown I've had for quite a while... well a least like two months or something? Really did some scary binging, like really 'think my heart and stomach are failing' kinda scary. And like I mentioned in the last post, I went for the horror look with regards to cutting my arms. Jesus Christ. Did my best to throw up all the food again, don't know how much I managed, but I ate so much I doubt it all came out. Just dissolved into tears and curled up in a ball under my duvet. Oh this might have had something to do with an overdue assessment and 'I need to eat to write an essay' and 'I can't write this essay!' Woke up the next morning and had to face a room strewn with wrappers and plates. Really, I ate ALL that?! So here I am, writing my essay ( yay !). I have to get it handed in tomorrow else I fail my whole year... which...