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January first, 2000
This week has been awful, also. A few days in Nashville went well, but aside from that my life has been an inferno. I gained * pounds. At least I still only weigh **. Despite this, my goal is to lose, at the very least, ** pounds. This way I will feel thin and pretty enough to involve myself with people without feeling inferior. Right now, I feel more isolated and disliked than ever. I pick up the phone and I dial the numbers, but the hang-up button beeps softly moments after. I am afraid to burden people, and afraid to be shunned by them. Because I will be, eventually. I'm simply trying to postpone it -- as if I don't already feel exiled from their lives. Stupid, ugly, fat, horrendous, unworthy... it all equates to generally the same thing. I am an idiot, and I am disgusting to anyone who is unfortunate enough to lay eyes upon me. When I look in the mirror, all I see is some sort of subhuman creature. I make myself nauseous, and that's no exaggeration.
I didn't even try it, last night. But vomit just bursted out my lips, with its bitter warmth in my mouth, and all over the floor. Staining the pretty hardwood, but only for a little with the dampness. My mother's absence from the house was a blessing. She would have either rushed me to the hospital, or screamed at me about how I disgust her. It was so thick in my mouth and inside my throat for a long time, I could not breathe. I was choking. Some of it slid out of my nose, at one point. The world was tipped crooked. Everything I see is darkness. Even now. I have not gone blind, it just doesn't matter anymore. I'm in an incredible amount of pain, and I have nowhere else to put it. I didn't tell anyone about this at all, because I want to say it with anonymity within these keyboard-walls.
The very evening that I returned from Nashville, I ended up slicing into myself with a razor three times. The only time I smiled genuinely that entire day was when I saw my own blood exploding from the splices opening my skin up and making a little bright crimson pool in the tube I keep in my room. This is hell. I don't know what's wrong with me, why there's all this thick black choking my life. I don't know why I only feel... any sort of control when I'm bleeding or starving. I'm dizzy with fatigue. I've limited myself to a diet of clementines, cigarettes, mints, and diet soda for the next few days. Then it's back to the *** calorie-a-day diet, which will be gradually lowered to my goal of ** calories. I feel a bit of worry at my lack of willpower, but at the same time this wonderful feeling of resolve. I fasted for New Year's, and by midnight I still wasn't hungry but I was consciously fasting. A great start for what I hope will be a great year 2000 for me. If I don't lose... at least ** pounds, I'll just have to stop eating completely. I hope that doesn't happen, because I cannot afford to go to the eating disorder hospital again.
And to top my lovely New Year's off... ****, an old friend from one of my more recent hospital visits, called me today. I had been calling him every day -- sometimes twice a day -- for two weeks, and there had been no answer at all. Naturally, I was increasingly nervous. I was afraid for his life.
I was right to be.
He was in the hospital, for a brain aneurysm. I half-begged for him to tell me that he was joking. I quite nearly started crying. He's alright, but from the tone of his voice, he is extremely unhappy. That's not unusual, but the things he tends to do with his depression are unhealthy to say the least, so I am still very worried for him. Hopefully, a friend of mine is going to take me to visit him this week, while I have off. I am hoping that that will cheer him up. One progressively dying person in my life is enough... my "grandpa," a much-beloved lunch aid from my old school and a surrogate grandfather, also had a brain aneurysm, and he is no longer even lucid. He is dying, just like everyone else that I love. I would most certainly end up in the hospital -- or in the morgue -- if **** died. We talk together almost every day. He has a big heart. I want to make him better. I want to have enough to get the people I care for everything they want. I feel so useless and alone, so utterly repulsive and obese and helpless and hopeless.
Happy New Year's, me...
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Anorexia As Is Home
Email: rakastaa21@aol.com
