sucker for some validation

I don’t know why it is better than staring at the darkness in my room. Maybe it’s because the void in my room is running after me, trying to devour me, while I control this pocket-sized hole. It’s my portable doomsday bunker. My carefully dosed numbness.

I’ve been so good.

My mouth feels so lonely.

One bite,

One bite,

One bite.

Bite turns into bitten.

The velvety plums,

The succulent and tender meats,

The sugary treats for the “good girl”

Grow teeth.

Razor-sharp, blood-thirsty, brain-gnawing fangs.

The “good girl” turns into beast devouring itself.

Sinful, gluttonous, selfish, unruly beast.

Monstrous, enormous, boneless,

Only meat, flesh, being consumed

By its own matter.

My mouth tastes of rotten fruit,

Maggot-ridden beef,

Caramel burnt to ashes.

Yet the beast keeps stuffing it.

I’ve been so bad.

How could I have done this to myself?

I must rid myself of this infection.

This inflammation.

This parasite.

The beast whimpers and its claws grow.

Its sausage-like fingers itch itch itch.

Its nails tear her skin.

I need to kill the parasite now,

Get it off of me before it’s too late.

The beast reaches down its own stomach,

Acid corroding her hands,

And I get rid of it all.

I need to be better.

July 12th, 2022

“I need to purge my urges, shame, shame, shame

I need an alibi to justify, somebody to blame”

- Vundabar, Alien Blues

I was recently abroad for a week and it was heavenly. I had no persistent negative thoughts, no preoccupations, not a care in the world. It was the most fun I had had in a long time.

The day after my arrival home, I ate too much at a birthday party and tried to purge. The thing is… I’ve never been able to purge and I’ve tried many times. It just doesn’t come out. But, this time, I swear I was almost there. I could feel some of the food traveling up my esophagus, but I had to stop because I heard footsteps and voices in the hallway. I didn’t want to be found kneeling at a toilet bowl. I cleaned the saliva and the tears and got out of the bathroom pretending everything was just fine. I have therapy tomorrow. I just can’t believe I keep getting worse and worse. Honestly, at this point, I just want to be able to purge once just so I can prove to myself that I can do it.

June 22nd, 2022

“I am nothing.

I'll never be anything.

I can't want to be something.

Apart from that, I have in me all the dreams in the world.”

- Álvaro de Campos, The Tobacco Shop

In two days, I have an exam for which I haven’t studied, but that isn’t even the problem. The thing my little pea-sized brain is worrying about is the fact that I sent a message to the girls in my class asking whether they wanted to do something after the exam to celebrate and no one has responded yet. I know they’re probably studying or something, but I can’t help but agonize over other possibilities. Maybe they already have plans amongst themselves that I’m not a part of, maybe they don’t wanna spend time with me and think my attempt at hanging out reveals my desperate nature, maybe they think I’m boring, maybe I misread the whole situation and they’ve never enjoyed my company, maybe, maybe, maybe. This obviously stems from the insecurities I have around attachment.

I’m not great at making friends, but, recently, because of class-related events, I’ve been hanging out more with the girls from my class and they’re great. But I know I’m kind of… different from them. I’m nerdier, I’m more insecure, I’m less fun to be around, I’m aroace (which I’m hoping they don’t know, but I was recently basically outed to them and I attempted to deny everything, but it’s complicated), etc. And I’ve been feeling like they have been cold toward me, but I know that’s kind of all in my head, because everyone’s been less talkative in class, as we’ve all been studying hard for the exam.

June 21st, 2022

“Inside us there is something that has no name, that something is what we are.”

- José Saramago, Blindness

The days have been scratching the insides of my skull and time has been melting inside it, glueing every neuron together, creating a formless monstrosity that won’t abide by my will. I feel like my thoughts aren’t mine, but they somehow still control my actions.

My therapist hasn’t been very helpful. However, I really don’t want to change to a new one, because I have grown kind of attached to this one and also my fomo somehow makes me think that, if I go to just one more appointment, this will finally start working for me. It probably isn’t true, because I have that same thought every time, but I honestly prefer this inertia to the huge disturbance changing therapists would cause in my life.

The grass is greener

Because it glistens,

Latex neon nature,

Rubber squeaky clean,

Haven’t you heard?

Plastic never withers

And everybody knows

Store-bought photosynthesis

Is much more efficient