crash&burn.

   Yesterday was horrible.
Yesterday was badness and awful feelings rolled up in hopelessness.
Yesterday will never happen again.
   Yesterday morning, I decided I would eat a slice of cake (170) and have an 800 calorie day. I decided, not my parents or the doctors or those rational silly thoughts that try to break into my headshellchamber.
   I went to the dentist and they stuck needles in my mouth and made me numb. Afterwards, Mom and Dad buy me a milkshake because they are good parents and I am a six year old with an owwie.
I drink it, thinking numbers like 300 or 350. This was okay. That was in my plan.
I looked it up at home, and the screen flares 1140! 1140! My brain lights up in a storm and I curl.
   It starts a fire in my blood. There is cereal in  my fists, there is soy milk dribbling down my chin, there is noodles worming down my throat. There is sweat on my skin and blood in my veins begging to be released.
I can't finish the noodles. Only half. I drink almost a cup of soymilk, half a cup of dry scratchy cereal I hate. I drink apple juice bottles that I unintentionally saved up in my drawer. I eat cookie dough poptarts and a peanut butter-y piece of bread and pour salt on my tongue until it burns. I eat cake, more cake, stale and crunchy from my birthday.  I eat three carrots.
   I take a shower and shove my fingers as far down as they will travel, and it comes up, up, up until I am gasping for air. I stick a finger in my windpipe and choke. I think I see blood, but it doesn't stop me.
I keep going until there is only bile.
My fresh dental work is flaking, little pieces of metal and bone shavings but it's all out of me and I feel better.
I dry myself off, and drink some more apple juice and half a can of soda.
   Then, it is six am, I stopped eating nine hours ago, but I am still awake.
I read when I was eleven and just started to diet that changes in weight were made while sleeping. In my mind, if I don't sleep I won't gain. 
   There is sun in the windows.
I wrap myself in layers; my pastelrainbow baby blanket (threadbare and falling-apart-soft), a faded sky blue blanket, and a silky throw from my dad.
I huddle in a circle of plush companions, Grey Bear and Brown Horse and Sock Baby and all the Belugas (Yelluga, Greluga, Blueluga, Piluga, Beluga), feeding off their imaginary body warmth.
The newspapers, protestsors, hippies, scientists - they all lie. This world is not warming. This world is freezefreezefreezing and there is no way to be warm.
I need more blankets.
 ---
   Today is better.
Today, I set out lunch of ten baby carrots (50). After three (15) my mind is full but not my belly and I stare for a few more minutes before deciding to eat two more and toss the rest.
   While my parents are gone, I throw my clothes off. My underwear and necklaces leave me, too, and I stand on the scale.  Somehow, my body had turned carbohydrates and sugar and fat and calories into a deficit, and I am -3 pounds.
While my parents are gone, I put my clothes back on me, bra and necklaces too, and dirty a plate, crumbling crumbs and dabbing peanut butter bits on the edges.
I'm not hungry, I ate.
   I take food out of the cupboards, out of the freezer and fride, and yell at it. I throw an ice cream carton at the stove. I pound a snack pack with my fist and it pops.
I make little cakes for imaginary faeries, with brown sugar and honey and cinnamon. After they are baked and cooling, I wash my hands with hot water and soap in the sink, scrubbing with a scrub-brush until they are bright red.

(cookies to anyone who just read all my insanity. )