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 am employed now, I teach business and it is very fulfilling. It doesn’t feel like work. It keeps my mind occupied and updated as I am teaching what I studied.  Mornings are ruthless, not enough sleep, that feeling of terror as soon as I open my eyes, not adequately prepared, the list is endless. I always manage, somehow, from Monday to Friday. I am always on the Go. Finish work, go home and then leave again so I can see him.
The boyfriend is still here, his departure dates have been pushed back, I’m ecstatic, and we get more time to indulge in each other’s company. Things are steady, neither one of us is going anywhere but we have reached some kind of plateau where everything else has been done, except sex.

 We discuss at length, I am afraid to do it because I will get attached and he is leaving, this is when I start to notice an imbalance in our adoration for the other, I think I may care more for him  and I take this more seriously than he does. I choke it off as him being a typical guy who cannot articulate his feelings. 

After several fights and disagreements and me convincing myself that he is the one that I have to do this with. He tells me he loves me (perfect timing) I am suspicious but I have always held back so I decide to trust, I give him my virginity. I want to at this point. Some few days before Valentine’s Day, it was done. God forgive me but I expected something grander and when it was over normalcy resumed. I felt fine, no tears or emotions. Just fine. 

We become nymphomaniacs, it’s as though I am having sex sorely because I have gotten on the train already so why get off, no difference would be made. I don’t feel like I am doing anything right or wrong. I am dead inside actually. On autopilot. A few tears are shed, i gave it all to someone who is leaving and someone who keeps our relationship a secret. He is leaving to start a whole new life out there, I definitely resent him for this. 

I will never read the word leaving the same way again. It evokes these tremendously dark feelings under my skin and in my bones. No word has ever been more sadder and powerful. 

He then proceeds to ditch plans with me so casually on Valentine’s Day and went hiking with his boys, no remorse… I was crushed. I go to the movies alone, binged in the movie then purged in a potato chips bag on my seat in the movie, I stoop that low and that results in me having vomit on the side of my dress as I rush to the loo with these lovey dovey couples ogling at me, what a low point.

I feel not appreciated in this relationship, these ‘cultural reasons” why we cannot be together in the open are starting to weigh on me, I feel bound by the monotonous nature this whole thing has become, we go to the same place every weekday and the weekend we go another same place, he doesn’t make effort to sweep me off my feet. I am not demanding or materialistic, his presence is enough but I feel taken for granted and used. Cheap.

Time staggers on…. February comes and goes. 

So far from home 

~4 April 2016

​I ran so far away from home, I ended up lost in plain view, the wilderness in my own tangled up thoughts that has become my world. This frenzied flee from all that is constant, the greatest search for something that I do not think I will ever find. 

I thought I could ride the wave but instead, I found myself engulfed by these gothic waters, I need to come up for air, I do not know how, I lack the resources and all I can see is white and deafening static. I cannot even begin to imagine how I ended up here. It’s like a switch flipped, a stone rolled off a precipitous cliff, the lip of that edge disintegrated and I fell into the gorge and the more I kept fighting myself, the bottom of these deptha were pulled from underneath me. 

He is pain, the guy I am in love with, the one who took my innocence. He is pain, he is tenderness, light and love. I have been cocooned in his sublime presence. He has these hazel eyes that glimmer in the daylight, they grow bigger when he talks passionately about a subject and I feel as though I am about to depart this life, sheer perfection. He possesses this tenderness in the way he moves and talks. A delicate man. He is mine.

All good things they come to an end. He is moving in a month. What I do, what will I become. I have stopped running, I am stagnant and ruined. All the goodness in me has been drained out, I am just like the rest. I feel like calling it quits, ending it, the thought of reaching the very end being abandoned sends me into an anxious, heartbroken, desperate hell hole, I can’t even begin to describe it.

 I ignored the large neon signs and trampled on them as I sprinted towards a hint of light only to get there to find nothing but the depletion of my own sanity. My body aches, chills and heat moves throughout my body, these maddening sensations, this hopelessness that brings me to my knees.

I do not know where to run now, I have nothing at my disposal.  The purging has lost all it’s glory because instead that euphoria that used to make me feel better as I kneeled to the porcelain God, now it makes me feel like death. A single purge and my vision gets blurry, I lose my ability to think straight and it fuels the anxiety. I have been purging non stop though, creature of habit.
I look 35.

I feel fine one moment and then the next moment my whole world cracks into a thousand pieces, writing is how at present I am able to temporarily piece it all together to create a mosaic of pain, fervour, love, hopelessness and everything in between. 

I do not need him because he is pain but I need him because even though he is the provider of pain, not intentionally. He is love and I am trying not to need him. I need to stop purging and be clear headed and present for what’s to come. 

We grow accustomed to the dark

A while has passed since I last wrote, for the most past I have been too weary to write. Recently my life has been full of friendships, meet ups, new activities and stimulating challenges. I haven’t had enough time to sit down and be still. I haven’t had enough time to feel and to think. I am unsure if I have been numb or I’ve stopped hurting… I know I haven’t but perhaps I’ve become accustomed to the dark so much so hurt has become some sort of second skin that I have to live with.

I turned 24 two weeks ago and unlike the previous years, I did not panic or cry I simply took it as is. Perhaps weakness has left my body, I do not know. I cannot explain these emotions or lack thereof.

I have been seeing a guy, it has been an emotional roller coaster to say the least. I have broken up with him more that four times, the whole relationship is marred with obstacles and a grinding halt that is certain and foreseeable. He is of a different race and religion than I am and his family would disapprove and to top that all off our whole union has been a secret and that has been wrecking havoc on my already pitiable self esteem and deadly insecurities. I do not know what to do, I break up with him and he pulls me back in with his elastic binds. He has the sweetest face I have ever seen and I am in the quicksand.

Bulimia keeps raging on and on and it is wrecking more havoc on my face, I look old and used. My skin looks and feels like elastic, I have this permanent dead eyed look in my face. My clothes are all too big so I keep rotating these few items of clothing. I am high on lethargy. This body of mine is spent, my feet seem to be saying this is it we’re done but my voracious appetite for self destruction remains unquenched.

I will make time to blog regularly like I used to, I miss how this feels. The release. I miss laying it all bare.

Day 2

Day 2 is a write off.

The events of today were out of the norm, I did not get to engage in my usual routine but somehow still managed to have an enormous binge and purge session that left me feeling worthless.

We have relatives staying over and I feel displaced, like an intruder in my own home. My bedroom is full of suitcases and people and there is no escape. I could scream. I will not last a whole week of tending to people, conversing and having to maintain this synthetic politeness and care.

Meal times will be interesting that’s for certain. Whatever. I just need some sort of reprieve.

Day 1

I haven’t engaged in any bingeing and purging for over 24 hours. I feel alright. I am exhausted but present, fully.  I don’t know what has switched off that inner drive that impels me to self destruct. In a way, I guess, I am self destructing by restricting but this seems less catastrophic than spilling my guts in a toilet bowl.


It’s almost 2am and I am in bed eating because fuck it. I am going to savour the taste of this god damn muffin, juice and chocolate. I will sleep with a swollen belly and endure the discomfort. Who is bulimia tonight and what has she ever given me in all the years that we have acquainted? Nothing but an abundance of heartache. What I have I gained from shrinking my body and abusing it in ways that words cannot even begin to explain. Being skinny hasn’t made me happy, it’s never enough.. it hasn’t given me that relationship that I thought would come if I were happy as a result of finally having control of my weight which is linked to having control of my life.

I had a date tonight and the whole day I was looking forward to it. I prepped for this date, I stopped purging for two days, wanting to look my best, I hydrated, felt lucid and somewhat disengaged from the purging part of bulimia. At around 12 the guy texted me and said that something huge at work had come up blah blah blah and that we should meet next weekend and in that moment my heart sank into my stomach. It’s like being brought to these heights only to be knocked back down again.

He was extremely apologetic and it’s not the end of the world  but it just made me feel so let down because I had rearranged my whole weekend, my anxiety had for once allowed me to feel somewhat at ease, I was ready, confident and now that’s ruined. My self confidence has shrunk, I’ve lost my nerve and my mind is now riddled with doubt, hopelessness, fear and some terrifying emotion I am yet to identify.  I just felt this urgent need to binge and purge, of which I did. I don’t feel better or worse, I just feel… Just?

I am scoffing chocolate as we speak, it’s this vile act of greed and sheer boredom. I just feel so let down, roaming some dreary wasteland that I only can perceive.