As expected, I woke this morning to Ana’s relentless nagging. The scale may have registered no change, despite my eating everything in sight, but the mirror never lies. So while looking at my blubber, my tub of lard, I heard Ana tell me that the scale was wrong and surely I have gained a dozen or so pounds. I am disgusting and worthless and nothing I do will ever make me beautiful. I will die this disgusting and no one will even be sad or care that I died. No one could ever love a piece of garbage like me anyway. What a lovely morning for me, can’t wait for the day to get moving so I can hate myself and starve all day. I have angered Ana, she will torment me all day.
On top of that, just when I thought I could trust my mother and my roommate… My roommate made a comment this morning. I had left my laundry in the dryer overnight. Of course everything in my apartment belongs to my roommate, I only own what is in my room. As I was getting it out of the dryer, my roommate said something about not caring that I left it in there and “that’s what I tried to tell your mom.” And I’m like, WHAT? What the fucking fuck does my laundry in the dryer have to do with my mother? She doesn’t live here. Why were they even discussing my laundry, why were they even discussing me? Please don’t talk about me behind my back. If you don’t like what I’m doing, talk to ME, not my fucking mother.
If I didn’t have work today, I would load up the dog and some liquid courage and maybe some weed and head to the woods to get trashed and maybe leave a few bruises and cuts on my big ugly body. Not like anyone would see them if I did. My father has noticed my bruises and doesn’t question them. As far as he is concerned, the bruises just mean I am out being active. He doesn’t know that I wake up with new ones every day, ones that I didn’t create and don’t remember their origin. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I jumped from my second floor balcony. It wouldn’t kill me. But I’m sure I would break something, landing injured in the grass below. No one would care, of course, but the release of energy from the fall would feel amazing. Better than any drug could ever hit.
As I think about all this, knowing how mean the voice will be in me head today, I am secretly pleased. I am a fucking mess, and I like it.