Monday, 28 March 2011

what can i exactly say that you don't know? maybe you hear, maybe you don't.

i hate how they all think they know where i stand, what i want, what i'm running from. but they don't. how could they?... i don't even know myself.

sometimes i don't want to go home. partly because i don't really have one but also 'cause home is where mummy cries and throws up, papa get angry, won't let me go, moans and grumps. home is where they sneak extra butter into my food and where the bathroom is that i use to throw up in. home has blood stained clothes hidden in drawers and packets and pills, razers and claws.

i took an overdose last week, ended up transfered to general hospital from the psych unit. 

the big hospital took me in and swallowed me up, filled me with lines antidotes and various injections. as i sat shaking and throwing up the pills i'd taken i swore i'd never do it again. but now... now i'm not so sure. i want to, i need to. but, but, but.

please don't tell me i can do this. please don't fib and say it's gonna be okay. i think we know there is no fairytale ending.

i love you all. 

x xx

p.s. thank you so much for the award charr :) xo

Friday, 11 March 2011

it comes and goes, in waves and drifts, my feeling of powerlessness.

it's been six months and sometimes i feel no further forward than the last step i took backwards.

i want to be positive and happy and to tell everyone i'm managing and that i'm not scared and food is fuel i will always need. but i can't. it would be yet another lie.

the damage i've done to my heart probably should have started to right itself by now. it hasn't. sometimes i wonder if perhaps it's permanent. and so my weight rises with all the food i have eat to restore my weight and i want to die within the new layers of fat that envelope me. 

but i know i can't. i have others to look out for, people who need someone to tell them it's gonna be okay. i want to be her. i want to be the girl everyone talks about.

but i'm so scared of the big bad world that i'm stuck in here. my lovely doctor said he was concerned because i could just to bounce back and fourth between hospitals for the rest of my life, always ill. 

limbo doesn't second too great.
and i want a life.
but i'm just so scared.

want to what i'm scared?

i hate phone calls and talking to strangers. meeting friends and not knowing what to say. asking questions in shops and having to  answer them in school. of having to buy food and inadvertedly showing my weakness; i am human, i need nutrition. i'm scared of being places that are dirty, unclean, well used. of being situations i do not understand. of arguing and being hated. seeming innocent, naive and young. i'm just frightened of being judged by anyone and everyone.

it's suffocating. like this bubble world i'm trapped in, my fear is suffocating. i barely know anything of the world. japan and it's trembling heart at the moment calls the world concern and i want to help there and meet people and love the unlovable.

you are loved, i promise x xx

Friday, 4 March 2011

i think you forget that it can kill. quiet, silent. still.

i want to write something worthy of how magical you are rts. words are floundering at the moment for me but...

i cried when i read your message. 

sweetheart, you can't die. you can't, you won't. my facebook shows you as a sister and that's a pack that i won't have broken. anorexia can go fuck right off, she isn't taking you away.

i can't believe how poorly you got, how they didn't notice you slip before them. i hate how i cannot give you a hug and talk in code about calories and getting better.

when we were trapped here you were the closest friend i had, i fitted in for the first time i can remember. i owe you so much rts. (i know you hate that nickname, sorry love).

i'm praying for you. my adopted wee sis, one of my best friends, a teapot with a handle just now but not forever. 

loveyou r. everyone does.

x xx

even though you don't know her, please pray for her. i just want her to get better.
My photo
somewhere over the rainbow
hullo there stranger, welcome to the better side of me.

porcelain puppet dolls