They're going to hand me it, this pretty little plant in a glass pot so I can see its rots, and they're going to say "Everytime you cut, it's going to lose a leaf.". And I'm going to think 'How fucking tidy.' I suppose now I'll see my own self destruction as I destroy the plant, taking off leaf by leaf, and watch it wither and die, and I'll say "Huh. I guess I won't do it anymore." And everything will be just fucking fine and lalalallala happy.
There's screaming and yelling. Spitting, throwing daggers, vipers in our house. "I'm trrrrrying!" I whine, the eternal lie, the yes-i'm-okay-lie that comes out of my mouth. I try, I do try, but it just crumbles. "Don't give me that bullshit! How hard can it be! to not hurt yourself? Quit it!"
Despite the yelling, despite the cornering and words that hurt and slash I still do it. I still eat and eat [family is visiting, eating out every meal], and throw it all back in little ziplocks that go in the garbage can. At night, I still lie down and drink my last bottle of water of the day, and then throw it back up into the bottle. The glands in my jaw are still swollen walnut-sized and my throat is still raw and sometimes I still cough blood. I still exercise when the world is asleep, and I still draw red lines on my skin and I rip off the plant's leaves.
I still make plans. Tomorrow, visitors leave, and I can go back to not-eating. I can go back to emptiness and dizziness and hunger pains that twist my guts.
3 bottles water = +0 [1 purged]
1 bottle Diet Cherry Pepsi = +7.5
1 small 'pizza salad' = +355
1 tea w/ Equal = +6
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