Disappointment.

Why get your hopes up if they're just to be dashed
back down through the ground again and again?

Why dare to care if it's just
thrown back in your face again and again?

Starve, binge, eat or purge. It doesn't matter really.
What a vicious circle.

Getting better.

I'm getting better, I know this. But I can recover and lose weight too. That's what I'll do.

Just to stop the voices crashing and the tears rolling
down my face
Just for the little smiles, my one saving grace.
I'll eat a little and exercise some more,
I'm not starving.
I'm not starving.

As long as I don't purge, it's okay. Right?

Torn

Oh Hazel, they say. Oh how lovely it is to see you looking healthy again. You aren't the bag of bones you used to be. Your eyes are now full of life instead of sunken circles. Your face is fuller now, you look so much better they cry.

I know this is a good thing. My body is better. I make myself eat. I try not to worry when I eat.

But my mind is torn. In the back of my head I still tell myself I should be punished for eating. I still feel I need to excercise like mad. But I don't. Because I know that if I do, she will start winning again.

And as much as I want to be thin, I don't want to fall victim to the disease. It's been a month or so since I threw up, longer since I've used laxatives.

I'm at a crossroads, but I want to take the right path. I have to.

Oh.

I like it when I'm feeling like the clouds are made of cotton and like the wind is helping me to fly with the breeze. When I see his face and smile and know everything is fine. I'm marrying him soon. Just trying to break the news to my mum somehow. She won't approve. But he makes me happy, like my BMI being near 20 doesn't matter, and the fact that my size 8s don't always fit me doesn't matter when he puts his arms around me and whispers I love you.

Then it switches. I feel like I want to scream, like there's a voice inside that can't get out. My head's yelling at me not to, telling me I'm wrong. I feel
torn.

I feel torn. I know what's right and what's wrong. But the thing is, that choices like these aren't as clear cut as whether or not I need to butter my bread.

It's not as easy as deciding whether or not I'm going to eat today.

I'm tearing
               right down
the middle

I'm Done.

Making the effort.
Caring.
Hating my dad.
Loving my dad.
Eating.
Purging.
Starving.
Sleeping.
Nightmares.
Being Awake All The Time.
Being A Good Person.
Not Knowing What I Want.
Blogging.
Not Blogging.


Being Confused.


... I wish I wasn't so confused.
I'm still here, I've just lost myself.
I'll comment on you all soon, I promise. Sorry for being such a shit blogger.
Thank you to those who still love me.

Fuck yourself.

Anonymous said...


Just cos you're mentally ill does not mean you can blame a faith you clearly do no believe and at the same time abuse a faith to justify you mentally sick and disgusting actions.

You need help. Like seriously, go see a doctor.

4 September 2011 01:27

Twigs Can Fly said...

Yo anon,

Stop being a pussy. I'm cleary not falsifying the idea of faith, I just think that the way religion portrays God to be is bullshit.

So fuck off, go educate yourself, and maybe try studying philosophy.

Safe.
~Twigs.

P.S. Go fuck yourself. Zero tolerance to people who have no academic abilities what so ever.




LOLOLOL. I don't care about people anymore.