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Tuesday, July 27, 2010

I am not your fucking cautionary tale....

Let's get something clear.
I am no god damned cautionary tale.

I posed a question to myself, when I thought about the fact that the symptoms I had mere weeks ago, I realized, were all those of a heart attack brought about by lack of food and overdose of stimulants.
The aching jaw, the pain in the sternum and gut, the dizziness and shortness of breath...
...I looked in the mirror at my fat, flotsam like body, and demanded, "Would you rather be alive or thin? Do you want to live? Or do you want to be thin?"


....and the answer was so fucking obvious.
There is no life without thinness.
There is no purpose without perfection.

I am fat.
I am a fucking whale.
And I take no pride on my obesity. My waist is almost back up to 26 inches, my arms jiggle, my stomach is bloated, and I've exceeded 3500 calories a day for three days.
I am a shame to my own eating disorder.
But I am not a shame to myself.
I am no cautionary tale.
I am no promotion of this disease.
I am me.
I binge and purge, starve and eat like the most extreme of seasons.
I get excited at the thought that I might be dying.
I take stimulants enough to kill most folk, and relish in the realization that I'm fading.
Not because of any sort of ideals of divinity, but I am simply that fucking depressed and not able to carry through on my desire to just straight out off myself.
I'm not worthy of suicide.
I'm not thin enough yet.

I can't give up yet, because I'm not worthy of death.
Death is the reward, and to die before I have fully decayed would be to fail.



You see, we all die at some point.
And I'm going to die in pursuit of what I love.
Perfection.



I will never leave this behind.
I don't ever want to recover.
I'm angry and hateful at me, and I've realized I've been this way since I was a little kid. No therapy nor pharmaceuticals have ever helped. The only thing that helps is the driven, pointed thinking of this disorder, and the rage and sense of purpose against myself that it gives me.

I will achieve my goals of perfection.
And I am going to die in the process.

When it happens, don't take me as a story of why it shouldn't be done. Don't use me for your stupid inspiration for recovery or relapse.
I'm not your tool. I'm not here to move you. To change you.
I'm not here to shatter your life or help you rebuild it.
Let me be just me.
Take just me.
What I am.
A self destructive little know it all with an outward superiority complex, rage issues, and no self esteem.
A girl with no acceptance of herself who loves the feel of petting the flap at the back of her throat to bring up bite by bite what she eats.
An insomniac who hurts herself when she sleeps.
A rage filled being often too tired to move, but too hyped up on stimulants and amphetamine to sleep.

A person.
Burning.
Dying.
Laughing and crying and screaming the whole time.

Andorgynous internally and outwardly feminine.

I am the Moth plummeting into the lanterns flame.
Cackling as I sizzle and pop.

Watch.
Me.
Go.

9 comments:

  1. This is gritty, this is raw, this is unapologetic. This is real. And I love it. No holds barred, no fairy fluff, no bullshit. I feel like this every goddamn day of my life. We will get there, no matter who we have to break in the process.

    ReplyDelete
  2. "beneath the porch light, we've all been circlin', beat our dust hearts, singe our flour wings..." it's a joanna newsom quote that your moth reference reminded me of.

    i understand what you mean. you are you. and that is all and that is enough. you are you and nothing else.

    i know you probably don't want to hear anything like this or that it is very helpful in anyway but...i think you are brave for being you and not trying to be someone else. i also think you are tremendously brave to accept death or be able conceive your mortality. i am not able to do either. i am embarrassingly terrified of death and am in denial that it exists and is inevitable. i actually get panic attacks for no reason sometimes when i think about it.

    i think you are strong and i respect you. not so say i am not worried or saddened. but i respect.

    i've kept up with your blog for some time now and i haven't commented too often but your one of my favorites.

    keep being you and fighting the good fight.
    stay strong.
    <3

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  3. As much as you hate yourself, I love you. I want you to live, but I don't know if I can ask you to continue to endure hell.

    All I want to do is hug you, as if that would make it all better.

    *Hug*

    ReplyDelete
  4. "I am a shame to my own eating disorder."
    I feel the same way.

    I think in some sense we all do as it will never be enough.

    A few of us girls on blogger are on the ABC so feel free to join if you like.

    You will be perfect...thin...
    it just takes time

    x

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  5. I fucking love you - love you for your honesty

    you just are who you are, beauty, flaws & all - you're a remarkable creature

    xo

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  6. oh honey things will get better!
    how about trying a few days of normal eating instead of overeating or undereating? it might get you back on track :D good luck sweet heart!

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  7. you aren't here to move me, just to tell your story.

    Yet you move me all the same.

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  8. I love how you say don't use me for your recovery or your relapse. I am just me. That is something I've wished to say for so long, and didn't even know it. I feel like I can't even sort out my own complicated head or reasons for doing things because they are so intertwined with other people. Parents, friends, boyfriend, school. If I could just be ME, no matter what that means, I feel like I might understand things a bit better.

    I also totally understand the desire to have a heart attack and die from this. I don't know where it comes from, but it is pretty powerful sometimes. But, I know that I'm not ready to die, and you aren't either. Stay strong, you'll find your way through the maze.

    xoRoseox

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  9. I keep asking myself: self, when you gonna quit murdering you?

    I never get an answer.

    I think if I ever figure out why protracted suicide is the thread that sews the quilt of my life together, I think I'll simultaneously shit out a miracle and call it Wallace.

    We are so much better than so many people we meet, why are we not good enough for ourselves?

    I'm waiting for Wallace, goddamnit.

    ReplyDelete