nothing but goo

Today I am nothing but goo. I will melt into a puddle of organic substances and drip down the cracks in the hardwood floor. There will be nothing left of me but piles of books, a guitar covered in fingerprints and a few lonely scraps of paper covered in mathematic equations and written fragments of my soul.

Today I realized there is true pleasure in swallowing food. It is bliss.

come together, ana community!

I am watching Global's Hope for Haiti Now show, and I had this thought: I'd like to encourage all of my followers to send help to Haiti. It is truly a great cause and the victims of the quake really need our help.

Why the ana community? We are people with feelings. We can't compare our lives to the everyday struggles of the injured and the starving, but we know what it's like to be hungry. We know where the line between need and luxury is too well, and we know what side these people are. But most importantly, we know the tru value of support. We know what it's like to be alone and how amazing it is to find support in other people. We are a strong community and we know the value of solidarity. And isn't the world one big community?

And so, boys and girls, young and old, all disordered included, I invite you to donate to Hope for Haiti Now at www.hopeforhaitinow.org and give the support you wish you could have. Because you know they need it.

pretend you don't see her

Do you see that girl, in the frosty, white dress?
The one who sits in the corner, gazing at the sky through the window,
Through her tears, with her bloodied eyes?
Do you see the bony girls in her books, in her mind?
Do you see the cuts on her neck, the teeth marks inside her mouth?
The ghosts inside her head?
Do you hear their voices whisper? Do you hear them howl?
Do you smell the blood that drips from her wrists
and the knife in her back?
Do you see the empty space around her? The empty space inside her?

Don't you see?
Can't you see?

Now there's blood on her teeth and knives in her eyes.
Now she is not still, she is frantic, she is blurry.
She is scratching at your face.
Do you see her?
Do you know her?
Now she shatters the windows with her bony books.
Now she tears her frosty, white dress
She wraps it around your neck.
Her bloodied white dress.
Can't you see her?
Don't you know her?

No one knows her anymore.
Just pretend you don't see her.

need to get out of this rut

I have committed the crime of binge.

I can't stand myself. These hundred-some pounds of myself. In the morning, I have water. At lunch, hot water. For dinner, two helpings of whatever I'm havin plus bread plus crakers plus carrots plus plus plus. What is wrong with me? I know I've taken my working out up a few notches but this is ridiculous.

I ate a bowl of crackers half an hour ago. For breakfast, an orange. And a slice of banana bread. And a bowl of cereal. For lunch, vegetable soup. So much food. So much fat.

And worse of all, I learn today that one of the friends I thought I could trust blabbed to her circle of friends about my eating disorder. I was so stupid to think I was morth more than some juicy gossip. I don't deserve friends. And friends mean food.

All I have now is school. And books. And starving. And if I can just stick to that maybe I'll be happier. Someday.

feeling like a vampire

I so so desperatly need to cut right now... It's ridiculous and useless and reckless and I haven't done it in months but this thought is looping in my head and I can't get anything done. It's like I've convinced myself I won't get skinny or successfully fill in my college applications or do any schoolwork until I cut, until I see blood.

I noticed something else: ever since I've dramatically decreased my calorie intake, my hands, which have always been a little cold, are freezing. My fingernails, on which some white spots have appeared, keep turning blue, then grey. It's a little disturbing. Does this happen to anyone else?

My thoughts are all over the place today. Blood. Cold. Dream.

I had this beautiful dream last night. I dreamt that, during an ice storm, I slipped on a blue satin dress. I was very thin and snow white and my hair was flying in the wind. I walked into the forest barefoot, and my skin started turning blue, my lips were purple, and each breath like a dagger in my lungs. Eventually I lay down by the creek in a bed of snow, and fell asleep in my dream... It felt like I was reading a poem.

Blue. Red. White.

Cupcakes. Water, water!

Have you ever experienced these flashes of beauty and thin? I'll be doing whatever and suddenly I'll catch a glimpse of my wrist or my ankle or my knee and it'll look dreadfully thin. But afterwards, in the blink of an eye, my body returns to its original, flabby state. These moments drive me, they are my thinspiration.

People staring at me, through me. Neon lights. Invisible.

"Why are you even doing this?"

You HONESTLY think YOU are qualified to tell me I'm doing this for a reason? Willfully? That I even ever had a choice? Do you think you know what this feels like? Try waking up every morning hating every bone in your body. Try screaming inside every time you see your reflexion. Do you think it's pleasant, when everything you do is a contradiction? Do you think it's nice, when every move is a struggle between your body and your mind? When every second of every minute of every day, there's a voice in your head that whisperscreams you're a stupid, gross and fat loser? Have you ever had to deal with the constant urge to drive a knife through your chest, watch your blood drip to the floor, and step out of your skin? Is your strongest desire to feel your bones rip through your skin and to fade away until you disappear? I didn't think so. But once you live all of that, and you have someone whom in some crazy dellusion you thought you could trust come up and ask you why you're doing this, then and only then, come and tell me I chose this.