Day 4

I wake up calmer. It creeps in, the emptiness, the terror. Is it acid coursing through my veins.

I eat. I feel sick. Numb. Abandoned. Confused. Shocked.

23:16: Still calm, in fear of when the collapse rears it’s ugly head.


Day 3

I woke up with impending doom sitting heavy in my core. I toss and turn. I shake. I recall.

My stomach feels as though it is eating itself. My blood is frozen. My blood is boiling. Is this madness. The emptiness sits in the pit of my stomach. It tightens and settles. Are these my bones. Is this my face. Is this. Is this. Is this. My life.

Day 2

My tears are a river. My body hot and cold, I do not recognise this blood coursing through my veins. My feet are weightless. Appetite, non existent. I break down. I see him, he betrayed me.. all hope shattered even I cannot recognise myself hurling these words of hate. My hands to his face. So violent. The red on his face. The chill in my bones and the dryness of my lips. He scurries off like a boy. Crocodile tears maybe.

Alone, the chill sits in my bones. My blood betraying me, as though it is acidic coursing through my anxious veins. This is the night.. the darkness harboured in me. The night of humiliation.. dead hope, dreams. The night of disbelief.


He was looking at me differently tonight. He was staring. He looked so handsome in dark navy blue, he seemed pleased, on cloud 9. He had the face of a man bracing himself to utter something huge. He didn’t, he didn’t need to. 

 The way  he looked at me as I was walking up the stairs after  a long and passionate Goodnight kiss, that look, that stare spoke volumes. It wasn’t a look of lust but a look of a man melting at the core. 

I think he has falllen for me.

The way he walks with our hands entwined, he gives the impression of a man about to fly. He gave me a gift, a sweet gift. I  felt a sense of unease in the fancy restauraunt, he should forgive me for my awkwardness,  I am simply not used to men spoiling me like this. 

I do not want to seem presumptuous. I don’t want my delusions of grandeur to get in the way of rational thinking.

I can’t stop thinking about him and I don’t wanna get hurt.


There is something fundamentally wrong with me. I am still awake, taking comfort in food and purging. On autopilot. I feel like an animal. I have this astonishing ability to taint what would have been a good day with my unending misery inducing habits. 

Food haunts me. I can’t stop. 


I wrote about being  trapped by geography for so long. I genuinely believed I could escape my troubles by getting on an airplane and forging a new life.

I did.

I am still the same. I am still haunted by the same things. I am still a raging bulimic. I am killing myself slowly. I  haven’t healed,  I hurt less. My emotions are not as violent as they used to be but I know they are there. 

I have nights when I cry till I wrap my hands around my own body and  embrace myself. I cannot bear to look at my mum’s pictures. It breaks my heart. Talking to her on the phone. It crushes something inside of me. I can still smell her scent sometimes. I like to imagine her calm disposition. The trips we used to take, me on the passenger seat. Its still so vivid.  I carry these memories in my bones and in my heart. I carry it with me.

 I do not write as often, writing makes me tap into those dormant emotions. I can feel the helplessness in my hands. I can feel the tension, terror and confusion in my temples. I am not alone nor am I lonely. I am terrified of these avenues. I am terrified of being so broken again.