"We're eating dinner soon."
"I'm not hungry, blah."
"Did you eat today?"
"Yes"
"What?"
"A bagel."
"A bagel isn't enough"
"I didn't eat it that long ago. It's fine. Don't worry. I'm eating."
"Ok...I trust you. If you say you're eating then you're eating."
Well, to tell you the truth, I wish I hadn't, but I love that we talked about it. I'm cocky like that, "a bagel isn't enough" mmhmm. That's right, just a bagel. Nothing more. And I am fine. Just dandy, and all I had was a bagel. Obviously just a bagel is more then enough. To tell you the truth, I feel full. That was too much. So tommorow, tommorow there shall be no food. Then I'll show you. You can live off of nothing.
Wake up in a horrible mood. Like always. It's 1:00 in the afternoon, you went to bed at 4:00 am. You're not too fond of sleeping at night. Nights are the best. Quiet, no one to bother you. You can sit and think for as long as you need, without interruption. Without an agenda. No appointments to be late for, no work to get done. Nothing to interrupt your pure solitude.
You are in a bad mood upon waking up, knowing that you gave into sleep and now you have to pay the price, you have to wake up. First thought: no food today. Before anything else, you look down at your stomach, puffed out, full from eating anything at all the day before. It doesn't matter how little you ate. Unless you have that airy, empty feeling in the pit of your stomach, nothing else is good enough.
Get up, go to the bathroom. Feeling a little bit better. Anyway, to empty yourself is a relief. Washing hands acts as an excuse to stare at yourself in the mirror. Turn to the side, look at your arms from all angles. You have an obsession with arms. Yours of course never being good enough. You push your shoulders up, exposes your collar bones. Then shoulders down. Shoulders up.
Turn around, suck in stomach, let out stomach, suck in stomach. Run hand down. Push in the spots that are sticking out to your disapproval. Then you look at your face for a long time. Staring. Raise your chin, turn your face. Feeling ever crease, every spot, in search of yourself. In search of something beneath it all. You decide, "still too ugly, still too fat" and you walk out of the bathroom refusing to look in a mirror for the rest of the day.
Another day, another boring day. Nothing to do, never anything to do. Nothing really seems worth it to you anymore. You have to finish your book, you have another one lined up. Wasted. Amazing book. You're at the end. She is 52 pounds. The chapters are spent telling of how damn thin she is. How her life is falling apart. How she is dying. All you can do is try to picture what she looks like. You wish they had a picture of her in the book. You really want to see this 'horribly thin' figure that keeps being described. You want to compare how thin you can let yourself get before you die. Then you have something to work towards...
You can't read anymore, seeing that you aren't really reading, you are obtaining anything your reading. You just keep thinking about the 'horribly thin' figure. So you decide to waste your life on the computer instead. You think of how many calories you are not burning by doing this. But you have no energy to do anything else. Fat. Lazy. Slob. You go on your screenname to specifically talk to one person. Your life by now has been reduced to nothing more then diets, razors, sleep, and him. He's the only thing keeping you sane. You find him, and there is some releif. Then comes your daily ritual. You type in the addresses, Pro-Ana websites - to check up on your friends. The only people that get you. The only place where you can be you and not seem crazy. They understand your search for diet tips, fasting buddies, anything positive. But all you end up doing is feeling really bad about not being as thin and as motivated as the rest. So you leave a ranting entry about how horrible you're doing. So much for motivation. You look at the clock, 2 hours. You're disgusted with the fact that you just spent 2 hours in front of a computer screen.
