whisper my name

My boyfriend and I broke up at 8:55pm tonight. Not that I was counting. I’m completely devastated. Already, I’ve reopened one of my cuts by pulling at the scarred tissue, and I’ve drunk 5 shots of Rum. Which equals headache in the morning. I can’t believe this hurt. I really loved him. So much. Now what am I going to do with myself. Bemoan the loss of him? God, I hope this pain doesn’t last.

I plan my meals in advance, but what keeps me going through the day is of imagining eating something the next morning. All I eat is 3/4 Of Honey Bunches of Oats cereal with 2/3 of Soymilk for breakfast and a small 4oz yogurt for lunch. Nothing else. I’ve already been doing this for a year now. I can feel my mind slipping and there isn’t a damn thing I want to do about it. It isn’t a “pretty” disease. It’s hell.

I fell two days ago, just crumpled to the floor like a rag doll, and banged both my head and shoulder on the door. Hard. I now have a mild concussion from continually slamming my head on the door, from a sort of aftershock effect, and my shoulder blade feels like it needs to be popped. I can’t keep living like this, and I know it’s my ed that’s affecting things - my balance, my control. If I can’t live, then I might as well die high.

I am a revolting piece of flesh. I want to be thin thin thin, 00 size. I want to cut, rip open my flesh with a razor, and start anew. I look down and see fat, I look around and see food. Let me be alone. Let me stick to my schedule, and not eat. I want to be ethereal.

Je me croyait immortelle et que j’étais dans mon euphorie dans avec trouble de l’alimentation.

I feel like shit, and am massively depressed. I am so fucking morose feeling, I just want it to end. I cut last night, and god did it feel good. The cut was deep and criss-crossed, bleeding ferociously and staunching it with toilet paper gave me a wonderful sting. The pain was a release from reality, and control was my drug. It was the side of my leg - I cut over a a risen and shiny keloid and god was the sensation mind blowing. Patterns are my niche when I’m cutting, and I tried am umbrella on for size. Blood was flowing in rivulets down my leg, and I cut so deeply it was exhilarating.

I have dozens upon dozens of scars on my legs, but they represent the emotional ups and downs I’ve experienced and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. I thought I was free of cutting, but I am tethered inextricably, and god was it a realization.

I just want Gary to make me feel whole again, instead of this disassociated waif of girl.

As I lie in bed beside you, sense every moment your breathing evens into deep sleep, I feel whole. Our pulses thump in harmony, and you gently caress my hip bone, the one that protrudes. Curled up behind you, the curve of your back is a secret waiting to be unfurled. You are an exposed canvas, colored vibrantly and chaotic. I wonder if you are the company I wish to lie with for days on end. We sleep, still and weightless, and I feel your compliments soothing my skin. I fell in love with you, not merely the idea, but the person who healed my cleaved trust. What will it take to make you run, what will make you turn over and weep with exaltation? You make me feel, and you impressed a dream of fantasy. You never fell in love with me, yet you gesture kisses on my lips, and I long to lie beside you, chaste in bed. Heavy and thoughtful, I flood our silence, and a dam crisply breaks - you disappear so absolutely into your head at times, that I pray I could follow you. I never just fell in love with you, but instead the love the person that holds capsules in his palm each night, sleepmonger, you are an addict and I am not alright. We are numb.

Well, I was whisked away into the night by my mother, so I wouldn’t binge or purge while I was alone and my Aunt was sleeping. I had so much undiluted time ahead of me, that I couldn’t think beyond what I could do at that single moment - which was b/p-ing. I didn’t purge, but I really felt tempted by the devil’s hand. I love my mother beyond what I could have possibly thought - she is my single-celled support system, the only reason I had for getting up in the morning and not killing myself in the middle of the night.

And…now I can finally weigh myself. Ha.

I love him surely, and yet he will never love me back.

I binged on cereal this morning, and the most worrisome aspect was that my aunt didn’t even notice.

I was in a “rage” last night, and was wailing about her not comprehending compulsion and why I had the desire to b/p. Then, this morning at 4am, my routine was squandered by not finding the coffee, and so I ate a bowl of cereal and then… couldn’t stop myself from continuing. I tried reading ‘Salem Falls’ which did sufficiently distract me for about 2 hours, it got so good!  Then I slept through till eleven, and with my aunt still sleeping blissfully away, I ate another bowl of cereal which I will hopefully not purge. 

The direct trigger was my routine becoming disrupting by not having any of my coffee, and if you read my blog, then you’d know how crucial that routine is too keep me from b/p-ing. I want a cashback guarantee or something, as reparation.

I have finally decided to just take this astoundingly frustrating weekend as a reprieve from my disorder, a sabbatical. I get to see Gary, and I get to socialize; I can’t rewind time, but can enjoy the future. So, I will defiantly stick my chin up and grin and bear it for as long as I need to. I just need to keep in mind that this won’t last forever - I can manage my eating disorder in the future, and be with my disease at home. I am not very optimistic this streak will last, though.

My purse still smells like weed. Damn that ex-boyfriend-turned-stalker for smoking pot, and fucking surrounding me in the sweet smoke. My big vinyl purse captured that scent like a hound dog out for blood.

I’m also going to my Aunts today, hooray for me. I’m always feeling seized by her concern over food, like my eating disorder is being rammed violently down my throat when she’s around. I am never alone, and she needs me constantly. I am in turn, completely preoccupied with food, and always want a way out of life, out her world and her small but triggering comments. The only upside is Gary, and even then, why take the risk? I have nothing I want to offer her, and she chokes me with her eagle eye and chit-chat. But, I have packed, and readied and resigned myself to 3 days in the Ninth Level of Hell. Despite those things, I am not prepared for this - I do not want my control taken away.

I may also not post as often on here, as well as on twitter; my aunt has a flaky Internet connection. But I’ll try.