I haven’t been eating lately. I sneakily throw food away and pretend i ate it. Like my peach yogurt this morning (down the toilet). I lie and lie and lie and can’t stop. Mom says i don’t live in truth and maybe i dont but i dont have much alternative. I can’t even remember when i started chronically lying to my parents and being so freaking smooth about it. Every minute, every second my hunger pains crumple me – but they feel like winning like the pain translates to victory and honor. I was always kindof a masochist now wasn’t i? I don’t need food. I just want to be so thin and beautiful. I want to be able to fit into really beautiful designer clothes that don’t make size 12s. Collarbone and hipbone honored like a goddess.
My mom is furious at me but I can’t stop now. Not since i’ve been losing. I have to be 115. I will be. She thinks i’ll go back to the hospital again that I’ll be locked away with a key or shoved into an ambulance. I’ve never gone into an ambulance without being handcuffed first and I wont go without a fight that’s for sure.
I’m sitting in my world literature class right now, and we are talking about how in poetry images become something more – they become symbols and that we should always be looking and thinking – does it mean more? And I have been thinking. I want to find higher meaning. Not eating is like prayer to me – like being so empty that something more can fill you. But in the end, I’m just destroying something – the person that i used to be. I’m not sure if that person is beautiful or not, but she is real and being replaced by something more – by the god/goddess.