What a relief, I am no longer 'fine'.
I feel incredibly and amazingly shit. And this blog is taking an incredibly and amazingly long time to write, because as always when I feel like shit, it's hard to make a mark, a physical mark on the internet. Today, nothing on my blog that I have ever written and no impression you have of me is accurate. I want to disappear, and I want to disappear perfectly- no trace, no written account and not even the vaguest of memory of anything I am or I have done left. I want to be invisible; I'm paranoid, I don't want you to know who or what I am. My solidity is irritating me and I am tired of being human. I'm not anxious today, I've thrown up every trace of anxiety that I woke up with this morning and although in one sense that's good, in another it's just left me drained. I'm am stone-cold but not uncaring- I care enough to wish I could vanish. Maybe that's hopeful. I hurt, although more physically than emotionally. And I'm horrified at the monster that I have become. Maybe that I've always been. In short, I'm a mess. I don't know how many times today I've binged, how many times I've been sick. 12 times? 14? When it gets over 10, exact numbers don't really matter, it almost surpasses the term 'disordered'. All I can say is that I know it's been disastrous and that I am horrified by myself- how my mind can turn on my body and how total the war between the two is.
There's so much I want to say, I feel like I have so much that I need to say but the longer I sit here writing odd sentences and then deleting them, the worse I feel. I can't leave a blog like this, it reads horribly and I've not actually really said anything. An awful piece of writing; even by my own blog-standards, which admittedly aren't very high. I suppose I'll have to leave it at some point, the laxative gremlins are growling. What a beautiful life this is.