I drink coffee. I sip diet soda. I take my zoloft. I feel wholly nasuseas. I constantly feel like I'm spilling out of my body and I need to be contained. I feel this horrible need that threatens, and often manages, to seap out reminding me that my body and it's need still exist. I don't know any other way to contain this except to drink coffee, and soda and focus on the starving because this is at least better than the bulimia.

My bulimia terrifys me. I feel like it comes out when my horrible need surfaces with a vengence and my normal looking body that bulimia leaves me with is it's way of saying: this is what you get you greedy horrible pig. Underneath the normalcy the world doesn't see the burning throat, or churning stomach, or blistered tongue. They don't see the scarred knuckles, or thinning esophogus or spinning head, they just see normal, which I know is not the case. Starving leaves me with a stomach that's concave, with softened curves, with smaller jeans. Starving gives me a visual validation of sorts, it's my way of saying that things are not alright, they're fucked up, can't you see that? Now I just have to follow through.

J'accuse
Austen