Of Being a F***ing Failure

Fuck you, recovery.
Fuck you, 89lbs.

You're both over now.

I'll make it to 70lbs.
Or damnit, I will die trying.

Of Recovery and Nervousness

So, I've decided to give recovery a shot.
My first day went over okay I suppose.
I managed to keep a bagel and four pieces of salami down without burning off the calories.
I'm also thinking of confiding in my parents.

Of course, this has me terrified.
I can't very well say "Hey, mum, I have an eating disorder."
I'm so afraid that they'll look at me and say "You don't have an eating disorder. You're not thin enough."
Or that they'll be angry.
I know my dad will be angry.
I figured that the next time he goes out of town on business, I'll tell my mum everything and try to have her break it to dad gently.

I don't know.
Am I doing the right thing?
Or is this all a big mistake?

Of freaking out

Damn.
Fuck.
Damnit.
This is fucking terrible.
My mum is bringing me home a meatball sandwich from Subway.
580cals.

I guess I can purge it.
Really, I have no choice except to purge it.
And I have to make sure I get rid of all of it.
I can't let this fail.
I'm so close.

God, help me.

Of Fasting and Worries

I've fasted the past two days.
I hope to continue for the rest of this week.
Saturday and Sunday are the days when I allow myself to eat one thing I've been craving and then nothing else.
I've been re-reading my copy of Portia de Rossi's novel Unbearable Lightness: A Story of Loss and Gain and I realise how many of Portia's habits are similar, if not the same, to my own.
I'm beginning to get truly worried about certain things.
Half of the time, I cannot remember what I did the day before, or an hour ago.
I sometimes have to think about it for long periods of time before the answer will become clear to me.

Am I losing the ability to distinguish fantasy from reality?
I have already decided what my reward will be for reaching my goal weight.
I'm getting a new tattoo, either a black swan or a cross.
Mark and I went to see the film the Black Swan Saturday, and it was amazing.
I loved it and when it comes out on DVD, I plan on buying it.

I'm still looking for a job, but I heard from Arthur today.
He said he thought they were going to keep me and that he fought Nina for me.
I'm also on their re-hire list, so if (God forbid) I haven't found another job by the next peak season, I'm going to apply again.
These comments made me feel better.

I feel like I'm losing myself.
As if the woman I used to be is gone
And now a wretched bitch has taken her place.
As if, with each passing day, I become more and more unstable.
I want to feel something other than the pain, guilt and worthlessness.
And the days go by
Like a strand in the wind
In the web that is my own
I begin again

The voices of Ana and Mia...
The beloved friends
The hated tormentors
The harsh rebuttals
The sweet, yet uncommon embraces
They determine my mood
They predict the amount of self-loathing I feel from day to day

The most complex and believable illusions are not the ones made by magic, but by our own minds.
But they are also the most painful when they shatter...

Of New Band Members, Anxiousness, and Tattoos

Well, I'm making it official.
Dustin is no longer a member of Last Daylight.
From now on, it will be myself and Chase.
After all, if need be, I'll be the percussionist.
I'm not even going to inform Dustin of this.
I would think that when you say the things he's said and then disappear for a week, it's obvious.

Even if he decides to speak to me again, I can't work with him anymore.
All he wants is a sexual relationship and I can't give him that.
I won't do that.

I've been feeling very anxious and bitchy today.
Don't ask me why.
Maybe due to lack of food.
Maybe due to the monsters in my head.
Oh, wait...those monsters are me.
I'm caught on a one-way street with them.
Darkness is upon my door and I feel like I can't take anymore.

I've decided that my new tattoo is either going to be a cross or a black swan.
I haven't decided yet.
I love them both.
I'll probably get the cross first, then later go back for the swan.

I long for the days when I knew nothing.
When I was an innocent child who knew nothing of the harshness of life.
I want to stay in love with my sorrow
But I want to let it go.
Can I find solid ground
Or am I just wasting time?

Of Black Swans, Both Film and Otherwise

As most of you know, there is a new film out titled Black Swan starring Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis (both of whom I love).
I haven't yet seen it, but it looks amazing.
I plan on seeing it as soon as possible.

The title, however, gave me an idea for a new song.
I suppose it could be loosely based on the character of the black swan in Swan Lake.
Very loosely.
I have no idea what it is about.
But, here it is,
For your interpretation...
And luxury....

A rose in December
A hauntingly beautiful work of art
The flame of a dying ember
Dwelling in the shadows of my heart

A little breathing space
A heart bathed in ebony
Rooms filled with lace
Masking the harsh reality

Caught standing in a hurricane
Saved by the breaking dawn
A twisted saviour from the rain
The graceful yet wicked black swan

Adding fuel to the flame
All hope is now gone
Trapped in this twisted game
By the graceful yet wicked black swan

Swaying softly in moonlight
Cool breeze chilling the air
Ready to join in the fight
Of destroying what was never really there

A single rose bound in satin
A whisper of wind in the trees
A ray of light on the earth now frozen
This vision that only my eyes see

Caught standing in a hurricane
Saved by the breaking dawn
A twisted saviour from the rain
The graceful yet wicked black swan

Adding fuel to the flame
All hope is now gone
Trapped in this twisted game
By the graceful yet wicked black swan

A rose in December
A hauntingly beautiful work of art
The flame of a dying ember
Dwelling in the shadows of my heart

The graceful yet wicked black swan...

Of Past Encounters

This was inspired by something that one of the girls I know who also suffers from ED asked me. "What would your 11-year-old self say to you if she could see you now?"

She walks up to me, her bright emerald eyes shining behind a veil of unshed tears. Pain and confusion have replaced the happiness and joy that once shone there. She stares up at me, a true feat considering my own height, and when she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper.

"Why?"

I cannot answer. The words catch in my throat, so instead I say nothing.

"Look at yourself," she whispers, "What have you done?"

I try to find the strength to tell her, but I can't. The numbness has returned, enveloping me like a soft summer breeze, a fire on a cold winter night. This feeling of emptiness is more terrifying than anything I've ever experienced, and I want to run.

"You had dreams and goals. You had talent. You were so bright. You could be so beautiful. Don't throw all that away. What is more important to you, reaching your goals, being who you wanted to be, or being thin?"

I turn away, tears threatening to fall, hot and scalding, from my eyes. I can't listen anymore. I can't bear this child, who has not yet seen the future of her life, saying these things to me now. This child, young and innocent, hasn't seen who she is going to become, what she will become.

"You can still fix it. You can make this right. Please. Stop. Stop now, come back, leave this all behind while you still can. Before it's too late."

After a gentle hug and a kiss sealed with tears, she turns, walking slowly away from me. I watch her retreating figure and wonder how I have gone from this, the small yet happy child I used to be, to the darkness I have become. My eleven-year-old self turns one final time, and in that brief moment when our eyes meet, I can suddenly see the pain that will change her forever. The change has begun. It's already too late.