Anorexia-Over-My-Head

This time of the year is attached to strong memories. One’s in which I deny, until nothing else is any longer visible in my mind or sight. It was our season. The long nights in the snow were endless and romantic. In our own ways, we found love between us like no other person could find. It was an intense passion, that is cemented into my memory forever. If there is a forever. I know this image of you is a fantasy. That is, what once was, is not and will not be apart of my life again. You are just a map that the snow lays out in front of me when the snow falls. Something, and the only thing I knew for years of my life. I have travelled so far, but your face is printed in the ice. It has become a reflection of winter. It is hard to erase by skating over it, like it does not exist. Still, I keep trudging along, in hopes of leaving you behind. The past is just an obstacle, in which disallows me to continue through this day peacefully. It haunts me all over again, every time during this time of the year. As storms grow nearer, so do you. This is hard for me to ignore. Please, this is no longer real. Please, do not haunt me this Christmas Holiday.

 It’s time for the hour of blazing fire to burn out your soul and heart, says the man in my head
The liquor and the drugs are only emphasizing the wrong directions you are taking, says God
You will go under, and you will live a low class life, and be a scumful mother, says Satan,
It is never to late to turn yourself around, he contradicts.

She sits at her desk, rubbing her eyes, attempting to retain each word she has read.
It is getting late and all she can think about it the overwhelming pile of work that needs to be done.
She has the dreams but not the motivation to get through the night or through the year in fact,
Her head wonks, her eyes water, and her head drops slowly to the surface.

“You are a failure,” a voice says as she lies in the hospital bed
“You have no longer been recognized as a poster child,” a man explains
“You have lost your identity, of your future self,” says the authority figure
“I know….” she says undeniably.

She jolts her head up as fast as she cans, and realizes she has fell asleep,
She knows the roads she has been taking, will fail her repeatedly.
She can’t stop her drinking, she cant stop her thinking,
Her eyes just keep on closing, into her soon to become reality.

-SMASH-

“This is your last warning, you will lose everything you have earned,” they say.
“Is this the object you want to become? Are you willing to lose your morals?” simultaneously inquiring.
“If so, then pull the plug,” they say, as they go to turn off the life support.
“If no, then find those reasons why, and act upon them.”
The cord slowly pulls….

-BANG-

There is silence. There is indulgence. There is contemplation. There is the living.

I am invisible, so I don’t mind if you have not met me. If you were interested, you would know the darkest secrets of my life. Since there is only one person who really knows it all, and has been far gone for ages, I would not expect you to try to get to know me. There is no such thing as emotional support, when you are so detached from the world surrounding you. The environment and the people blur together, and you cannot decipher the difference between the two. Death and living blends into the same existence. There is nothing you can do about this vision. How you cope depends on how well you are capable of ignoring all the past and all the situations that present before you. You might fail, but there is nothing anyone can do about that. You might not understand the aspects of yourself, and you might be everyone but who you are. Then again, maybe that is who you are, everything your not. Maybe this is the person you are suppose to be. Melting into a depression much further than anyone could comprehend other than those in the same position. But you are probably hiding like me.. But slowly, I cant hide anymore. So tonight, I pop these pills and drift into a momentary numbness that nothing or no one could ever give me. When you look at me, you will once again see nothing. My cuts are bleeding just as they always have but you still do not see. I have to be dead. In order for the realization of my suffering comes to surface. Realization after my suffering is over. There is no hope for someone who has been this way all their life, as long as they can remember. Judge me, cause you do not know me. But you have your stories too. I have mine.

I have been reading for hours,

However, not even a dent is placed within my schedule,

I am dieing in agony of trying to slam all this information in my head which is relevant, but also irrelevant to what I want to study.;

I have too many thoughts, and too many conceptions of psychology and history flowing through my head that I would like to sit down and wait for it to piece together;

Instead of wasting my time cramming, resulting in not comprehending the information and remembering it for longer than a short period of time;

There are many things I’d like to discover before I die, or before some tragic event happens where I may be incapable of proceeding with research of my own.

I know I still have things to learn, but to cram all this in my head at once, I am not learning anything.

I will not get started on tests, and their unfairness as a whole, as a test of intellect they are momentarily efficient ways of getting marks over with, with no respect to the individual and what they may have on their minds that particular day,

Not everyone has the capability of shutting off their brains to the external world, and intellect their way to peace.

Inside their head, and their writing regarding the tests there is a conflict, a long never ending battle of remembering material read or heard and trying to forget those daily stressors that kill you in the midst of it.

Suicidal tendencies may not particularly be one their mind, but complete isolation is indeed a relevant and safe escape goat to an extent.

Into their books you may find traces of students lost in an never ending pit of what only is perceived to be success and productive.

But success and productiveness lies only in the mind and perception of the individual acting upon these academics,

For one may not be successful if their heart is not in what they do,

And one may not see being productive, with being crammed of memorization, not learning.

For what one perceives as happiness, or goals, may be merely nothing, poor, stupid, in another eyes.

8:21pm Depression and Alcoholism and Anorexia

There’s empty bottles all over my bedroom. On an empty stomach, you’ll find me passed out in my bed, above the sheets. There may be a strange person in my bed, but chances are, it’s just me. I cant imagine living in the state I felt myself slowly falling back into. Things that you choose to ignore tend to come around once again in new and unexpected ways leading to unknown grounds of coping. I just want to enter to another state. My glass full of rye and ginger allows me that advantage. My cupboards are full of half empty or half full bottles of liquor, look at it whichever fits your best description. People do not see me falling because I am behind walls, or they do not think I am capable of falling. When things happen, I am desensitized, but maybe it’s just a cover? Something that I do, just for all of it to come back at me at once. You wouldn’t understand if you even tried. Some days I cannot tell myself if I am an alcoholic? Anorexic? Losing my morals? Losing all sense of self? People will tell me when they find out, that it’s a bad road to take, and that it’s not what happens to you that makes your identity, but how you react and cope with those incidents that you cannot control. But is there sympathy anymore for mistaken falling? For self-destructive people stuck in a cycle of never ending drinking, starving, and popping pills. A couple shots in the morning to start off, is now not enough to alter my state of mind enough to get the energy to face anyone, or to face myself. I am lonely, but never able to pursue anything in fear of, in fear of fearing men and women both. You would think I would become insensitive to the abuse of others, or being used. Fact is that’s all I seem to allow myself to be now. An object of, sexual interest. An object of nothing more. For someone to care the way one use to, is inexistent. I am buried in a tomb where no one can see my face and I am just another girl striving for beauty, not out of her own spite, but to feel like she is worth something. Even if that worth says, “hey baby, use me, do whatever you want.” This is what I’ve become. This is what I am pursuing, even though I know it is not what I want. I do not advise you watch me fall. Hell, you might think I am bluffing. A lot of people do bluff. But my cupboards tell the story. I also advise you do not open them either. My patterns of living these days are unwell… something has to fix this. I have to, but I am afraid this time, I have entered unknown grounds.

I haven’t been faithful to my morals,

The steps that you thought I took,

I merely skipped past.

I don’t know where you think I made it,

I made it as far as my bottle of rye.

Back two steps, and you’d have found me.

But you’re too consumed with your new lifestyle,

And I am consumed in drowning myself in the fumes of yeast.

Fattening and losing all at the same time.

There were times when I no longer cared, and that the numbness of all my experience, raised further than any other emotion was able to feel.

There were times when I would breath, and all I could inhale was dirt. I liked it. The times that I drank my life away into a frenzy of losing control.

There were times that I popped my way to cheat life, when death was not on my mind, but the only option.

Or so, I thought.

There were times where, I could not bare to go on, that I have grown weaker, through growing stronger.

And still, feel nothing.

There were times I would let myself be loved and love in return, I have grown from that ability.

There are times where I could spend sleeping, drinking, dancing in the wind of a broken signal.

There were times I could read the signs of what roads were being taken.

There were times where I could watch my steps and learn, and cope… and..

Be innocent.

I have seen the light, but I am nearer to the dark, because protection is being trapped, is feeling, nothing.

All faith that was once in my heart, is torn and mutated into a pure disgust, for any remarkable story you’d have to tell me. That anyone would have to tell me.

There was a time, I believed in love too, but darling.. I believe in nothing anymore.

But journal, I believe in… my numbness.

Happier than I’ve ever been, Stronger than I was before, But lifeless… soulless… deteriorated…

Feeling.

Nothing.

Feeling.

Death around the corner.

Of one whom died a million times, only to die again.

Returning,

Again.

To nothing.




Weight: 103
Height: 5'5
Goal: about where I am
Intake today: chicken fried rice, and an egg roll


XXxx,
Emm