A Head Full of Beauty

http://suicide.com/suicidecrisiscenter/whylive.html I want the pain to stop. I just want the pain to stop. These last few months have been unbearable - the hardest period of my life. And the only option is to bear it. Anonymous said... ...Perhaps that's why we love the violence. We're not really alive in the real world. I often fantasize about the ex-boyfriend strangling me, this time for real, until everything stops. The terrifying thing is, when I allow reality and fantasy to mingle, I forget which is which and I forget to be scared. It's exhilarating. I know I'm meant to have given up blogging but I still read all your posts... I hate it when I can't reach back to Anonymous' - even just a name, a fake name to identify you apart. But that might be it, I never really looked at it that way. I forget which is which... reality and fantasy - who I am and who I fantasise being. I read too much, I think too much and I don't live enough.

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. Yeah. 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, dai...