Anorexia

Something dark and ominous lurks around the corner. I have no light to guide me. I close my eyes, noticing the lack of change in vision between eyes open or shut. I reach out, searching for something that will make me aware of my location; something to calm my pounding heart. The sound of the rhythmic beating in my chest seems to reverberate against something--perhaps--yes--walls; my hands slide over them, feeling the grainy, rough texture. I lean against the wall, exhausted from walking and thinking. By this time I'm starving; I can't remember the last time I ate. I sit, leaning against the wall for support as I sink lower. Something moves somewhere in the dark. I didn't hear a noise or see anything in the darkness to make me sense this, but still I know something is out there. And this something does no intend to help me. It's will is evil. She wants to hurt me. I wonder to myself how I know she is female as I see and hear nothing. The thing is closer now; I sense her presence moving closer to me. It's colder, and goosebumps trail from my hairline to my ankles, forcing me to draw my knees to my chest to protect myself from the frigid air. Closer. The feeling inside of me becomes even stronger now, causing my arms to shake and the muscles in my legs to tighten. Her intentions are cruel; she tries to hide them from my sight by replacing these feelings with one of calm. She knows it won't fool me for long, but it gives her time. Time to close in on her prey after lying to it, telling it to trust her. Closer, she comes. The calm is fading, I know that I should run, but I am too weak to move. My legs would give out if I tried to stand. Closer. My whole body is shaking now, the sense once internal now escaping and rolling over my skin. Closer. The wall on which I lean begins to shake, showing me that I am not the only fixture affected by her movement. Closer. The wall vibrates harder; I fear that any more and it will collapse on me. Closer. The calm is over me no more, and I begin to see her clearly. She's monstrous, and my mind immediately turns to memories in my panic. I begin to compare her to creatures from horror stories in my temporary insanity, deciding she is worse than all combined. She's practically standing over me, looking down on my weak, fragile body with an evil smirk on her disfigured face. The walls around me are starting to collapse; dust and debris begin to fill the air. If I'm going to get out it has to be now. As if hearing my thoughts she takes the last step closer, dashing any hopes of escape. I hear faint voices somewhere far away, calling to me, trying to save me, but I know that there is no way for me to get out alive. She has taken my control. Small pieces of the wall fall on my head, feet, and knees, but I feel nothing. I can't feel anything at all. I know I am going to die, but strangely, I am not afraid. My sanity has left me by this point. I wait for the end, when the walls will inevitably fall in on my body, suddenly realizing she is still above me. I wonder why she has not left, or if she too will be buried beneath the stone. We meet eyes--oh, those eyes. I am filled with horror at the eyes of the creature above me. They're of the most beautiful color-like an emerald-but in them you can see every cruel and evil intention that passes through the mind behind them. As realization sets in I find the words to say, "You did this to me." She seems to find these words pleasing because she grins her evil smile even wider, exposing rows upon rows of sharp, yellow fangs. She nods. I have merely seconds; the falling pieces of stone larger now, breaking the skin and becoming stained with my blood, but still I feel no pain. I look up; the monster is gone. Anger and frustration well up inside of me as I realize that the monster has escaped. I ache both internally and externally now for the people-young and old-who will inevitably have havoc wrought upon them at the wrath of the beast. As the stone and debris begin to bury me, I use my last breaths to utter a prayer for mercy on these victims as it was not shown to me.

Written at 5pm on Tuesday, March 17.

Today was long, but Monday and Tuesday are always the worst because it seems like the weekend is forever away. Spring Break is in about 3 weeks - April 4. I'm anticipating and dreading it. I know it's going to be fun-a week in Texas with Tiff, her mom, and no school...how could it not be?-but I know I'll have to eat more. Two years ago, on my last anorexia "fling", when I went to Florida for Spring Break, I ate a little more than I was used to, but I was also a lot skinnier then than I am now. Probably around 110-115 lbs. Now I'm 124. I'd feel a lot better if I could get down to 115 by April 4. So that's about 18 days to lose 9 pounds. A pound every two days. My body's still "on strike" and now cooperating with my efforts at weight loss. The scale never seems to change in the morning. I hate it. A little motivation would be wonderful. Anyways, Tiff's a huge fan of Mexican food. Which means we're sure to hit up Poncho's and On The Border. Both otherwise known as Fat in a Taco Shell and Would You Like a Million More Calories with Your Rice and Beans. FUCK. Even if I were to be eating a normal sized meal, what can a vegetarian do with a restaurant whose choices are only between beef and chicken? Tiff promised me we'd go to Subway alot but even then the tuna has alot of calories (I'm pescovegetarian, meaning, I eat fish). I wish I was going to have more control over my meals that week. It's stressing me out and still 3 fucking weeks away. Tiffany also said we would go walking every day but I'm pretty sure I remember her saying that last time and we never did so. I love her for trying though. It must be hard to watch your best friend go through what I'm going through, I guess. She's been so great and understanding, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't realize yet that my final goal isn't recovery this time. I'm not sure that I even realize that. I just look around and see how beautiful life and the world is and how blessed I am and think, "Am I even worth it?" I don't think so. I think that this life should have been given to someone else. I don't deserve it. I haven't done anything even remotely close to good enough. When I'm thin, I'll finally deserve something, though - death. It's the most I can hope for at this point.

This too shall pass

Sorry, it's been a while. I just haven't felt like typing on here. I've been writing though. I don't know how I feel. I could be in a good mood but I don't think so. It's confusing, not knowing what I'm feeling. I know I'm frustrated. And impatient. Because I'm still 124 pounds. I've been 124 for awhile. I feel like my body's on strike and is refusing to lose more weight. But it's just so damn frustrating. I exercise and barely eat and can't see any result. It's depressing. And my calves hurt. I'm thinking it's from a lack of potassium because they feel like they're cramping up. Anorexia sucks. No joke. I wouldn't wish it on ANYONE for a second. I don't deserve any better though. I don't know. This post was pointless. I'll probably post something less pointless later.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

So I guess since this is on the internet I have to introduce myself or something, right? I'm Becca and I'm 16 years old. I'm using this blog kind of as a modern diary. This being said, I'm not looking for readers, although I'm aware that someone might unfortunately stumble across this page. If you happen to disagree or misunderstand anything I say, wonderful. I'm sure if you're anything like me you'll make your opinions known. Now, if you are one of the misfortunate readers of this blog then I guess you're like, "What the hell? She's a dumbass teenage blogger. Why would anyone care enough about what she has to say?" Well, my reader, I will tell you. You may have heard of blogs or myspaces or facebooks where people talk about anorexia. Perhaps you've read about it. Perhaps you know an anorexic. No? Now you do. Yes, I'm Becca, I'm 16, and I have an eating disorder. And I don't give a shit what you say about anorexia because I realize that people have their opinions on it. And I'm not gonna reply and say, "OMG you're so mean and uneducated" because I happen to be mean most of the time (I like to call it honesty) and when it comes to anorexia, I wish I was uneducated about it. I wish I knew NOTHING about eating disorders. But I'm bringing you in towards the more recent tales rather than starting from the beginning. My blog/diary will probably combine past/present/future. But I'm a little ADD, and am bored with this blogging thing for tonight.