Can't fade away

I can't tell her, I can't tell her. My mother just called seconds after I was done purging and she mentioned that "it took a week for your anorexia to be gone" or something like that and I just almost had a panic attack. First off, I never had anorexia. Secondly, my ED is back and I never wanted to get rid of it in the first place. I just can't tell her. I'll give it another month and a half or so. Then I'll have to.

That's like my only plan on how to survive Christmas, by letting her know. Then maybe we could work something out or at least she'll be prepared and she can in turn prepare the rest of my family. I'd tell her my weight if she asks and also that I will be maintaining it over the holiday. Not gain, but neither lose.

I can't imagine her reaction when I do tell her, or if she'll notice before I get around to that. If I manage to get to underweight and beyond, she might notice. Either way, it's something I can't get away from. She'll know, eventually.

I purged blood again. More than last time but still a very small amount. At first I was like "hey I don't remember eating anything red" and then I was like "oh..." so yeah. All I wanted when I recovered was to get everyone off my back so that I could go back to restricting again without their knowledge. Mission complete? I still feel like a big, fat failure.

Let the music soothe me. Put me in a trance. I need to fade away. I smell of vomit, I'm finally empty again. And I want to find something worth dying for. Perhaps getting thin is not enough of a reason. I just have things I can't live for, but I don't really have anything to die for. And still the same songs echo in my silent heart. Rapid beats, silent to the ear. I can feel them, but I cannot hear.

Too much to listen to, too crowded in my mind. I ache for my release, but I know everything will come to me one day, all that I need. Life is hurrying to catch up with me, I'm far ahead. Restless in my homesick soul, my emotional fever increasing. I'm soon cold again. Too cold to bear it, I wither with the autumn and will become one with the frost when winter arrives. I always do. Cause there's winter in my soul and snow in my heart. Just lie down for a rest, hoping to sleep forever.

And I might have failed the test but I won't start over again. It will soon be all over and I'm done testing the waters. Now I'm going out for a swim and I won't come back to shore. I'll swim until my body is so sore, I'll sink and drown. I put out my flame tonight but I know it will ignite again tomorrow. But tonight I'm only ashes.

The cigarette glow is my only light. It's fading, light up another one. A chain that will never break. I am shatter and heartache, homesickness and hopelessness. And one thing I've never wanted was to go back to the past and change things, I've never wanted back what once was and now is lost. I've missed it, I've felt nostalgia, but never truly wanted to go back in time. If anything I've wanted to continue forward. Cause when you've been at the bottom your entire life, you still try to believe that even if everything sucked, it can still get better if you just hold on. Or it won't get better, but you still have no reason to want to go back.

Mostly I live in the here and now. This second is what matters, not year 1989 or 2016. I do look back a lot, but that's just me trying to piece my puzzle together. And I'm mostly looking back on what was awful, rather than missing what was good. I'm reflective, over analysing and over thinking. I've always, always been. Even back when I didn't have so many years in my past to reflect over. When my past years were still in single digits, yes, I reflected and over thought a lot already when I was 4 or 5 years old. I believe that was when it started.

I wanted to know why I couldn't remember the first 2 years of my life, I thought a lot about humanity and the society I lived in. I thought about other kids my age and the few adults I knew. I was curious about humans, yet a true misanthrope. And I wondered what made me so different from everyone else, a couple of years before I even started school. My mind is a curse, yet I'm grateful for my ability to really think. That I'm not one of the mindless who just float through life with a vague question mark on their otherwise, seemingly empty minds.

It is both a curse and a blessing, I believe. And I cannot hate it without loving it, as I cannot love it without hating it. Crawl deeper into my hoodie, I want to disappear into it. I'm lacking comfort, but cigarettes and music will have to do. I'm tired. Of life, of my body, of my mind and everything around me. I wish to evaporate with the cigarette smoke. But yet I stay. Yet I can't fade away.