Tuesday, May 8, 2012


   It has been one year. The 8th of May was the first food without food. Well, it was not really the very first -- just the first I tracked. There were days when I was 9 years old, 10 years old when I used not to eat for one day or eat very little, like "allowing" myself this and that, because hey, it is normal to eat, right?
   8 May 2011 was not a zero-calorie day, because I used to drink milk or Activia and chew gum to keep myself away from food. I've been chewing lots of gum during this year, until the point where gum made me sick. The same happened with the pills. The laxatives were fine. Three at a time, four at a time, they had a sweet, pleasant taste. Now? Ten-thirteen at a time, swallow them quickly because the taste brings nausea, drink lots of water to wash away the taste. But it has not been a year yet. Laxaversary is in September.

   I have not eaten today, nor have I drunk anything but two sips of water. It has been a year, and a lot has has changed. I have changed. This is the behavior I wanted to have, these are the things I wished I was able to do. Not eating anything, resisting the urge to do so, being strong, but heck, I am weaker than ever. Mentally speaking, I am weaker than ever.

   Looking back, I see that the reason I had not eaten was not the "not eating/restricting" itself. It was because I was with him, the other him. I was with him and hated everything about it, so I lay in my bed, dirty and lazy, and talked on the phone with my best male friend. And that best friend kept talking to me and asking what was wrong, and I eventually told him. I can clearly recall that day - it was dark outside, the lights were on in my room, the windows were open. The bed was unmade, I was walking around angrily, desperately, what the fuck am I going to do? It was a Sunday. I always eat on weekends, so maybe the 8th of May was the first time I felt (I almost wrote feeled) depressed. Not the suicidal, "let's-take-12-Nurofen", "let's-jump", "let's-cut-until-I-bleed" kind of depressed. But it was awful.

   And so the time has passed and the time has brought me here. And here I am, writing because I am frustrated, writing because writing is the only cure, writing because I love to write, and I can write and damn, writing is beautiful. I'm writing because it is the only thing I can do without destroying myself.

   I'm not destroying myself. Everything is fine. I can go one more year with this. And one more and one more until there's nothing more left.

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