i don't know what to write. i've been sitting here, thinking of what to write but nothing comes to mind. i'm letting other people's lives and thoughts into my head so that i won't have to deal with my own.
i'd like to say, today was good, we saw an aunt and went into town and then we met a friend and finally mummy after sitting in the cafe drinking coffee and talking about stuff and then we went home and it was a good day. a good good day.
but, i guess you could say, i'd be lying.
so i have to say, today was a day just like any other day except the world was real and i had to live and breath in it. i had to survive and i don't do that very well. and to survive i just don't eat, i'm real and proper and fitting to the world that way. i had an apple and i'm still fat but that's not the point. the point is that it upset people and i lied. i lied a lot. cause it wasn't a good day and i didn't meet the friend i said i did (i did meet a friend just not who i planned to and it was only briefly) in fact, i didn't meet up with anyone at all. i went to the library and i read. yes, and i didn't drink coffee or sit in a cafe talking about stuff and i didn't go home and it wasn't all good. no, i went home and refused to eat anything except the apple and the house changed, like it always does when i listen to it, and mummy and papa looked sad and frustrated and murmurred the same mindless bullshit they do everytime i listen to it and so it wasn't good and now they won't really talk to me except if it's a must so i'm in my room writing this to all you and i started off by saying i didn't know what to write but it turns out i did, well i didn't but... and now you're reading this and probably wondering why and i can't tell you why. i'm just writing with knowledge that i feel bad about how i was today, about the things i did and the things i didn't do but also with the knowledge that if i stop i just might die and that also if i don't stop i might die anyway.
but i can't be fat anymore. i can't live this horrible lie and belong in a story which isn't mine to act. this is no fairytale. this is my life and i want to live it my way.
i'm so terribly sorry that i break your heart with each mouthful i don't eat. i'm so terribly sorry i'm not the daughter or friend or stranger you want me to be. i'm so terribly sorry you live with a girl who has a friend called ana with one n.
you deserved better mummy. you deserved better papa.
i love you.
i. love. you.
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
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