I’m really tired - I’m tired of being sick and pretending it’s fine, because it’s not. I’m tired of feeling like I sponging off everyone. I’m tired of not belonging anywhere. I’m tired of people going away. I’m tired on relying on people - and equally tired of actually having no-one to rely on. I’m tired of no-one actually knowing me. I’m really tired of just being me. 

Most of all I’m tired of knowing I don’t deserve anything I have - and tired of being scared everything and everyone is going to disappear … because it will. I’m just tired of being scared - and I am, really scared. Because nothing is changing, I’m just getting worse, and the longer I am ill - the more immune and boring it becomes to everyone … and the more chance I have of losing everyone. It’s just shit.

One last thing … he’s amazing and tells me I can always rely on him - and I can, but through no fault of his own, now i do rely on him … he’s going away for two weeks and i’m fucked. That’s why I didn’t want to rely on him. AHHHHH, really nervous. Hey maybe it will be good for me. Lol

On my own … bugger

Alrite - so health wise not great; hospital may be looming, but the last week has been absolutely delightful. I’ve managed to get a fair amount of work - get out of London and been staying in Somerset for the past couple of weeks. And, fuckin​g hell it’s been beenficial for my head. I’ve done loads of things. Instead of trapping myself in a house we’ve been out everyday and just generaally had a fantastic time. BUT, my housemate is soon to be going somewhere for 2 weeks and it fucking freaks me out because I rely on him too much. Like a lot to much … as in he’s probably the only person who can really deal with my illness. So 2 weeks​ without him - I’m pretty screwed. Lol, but positive thinking. I don’t really know what to do, luckily i have some lovely friends here - but to be honest without him fighting that voice; no-one else can really do it … so it definitely gets a lot louder. Really rather nervous. But hopefully it will all work out. 


So I have literally this hour, this day just realised I’m in trouble. I didn’t realise that I’d changed … and I didn’t realise that I’m definitely not happy anymore. And now I know. I actually don’t know who is me and who is the eating disorder. All i know is that 3 months ago I was happy and myself - and now, I’m just not interested or enthused by anything but my eating disorder. It really has to change because I’m just miserable … and I’m making those around me miserable. But god’s honest truth - I don’t know how to change. I’m so scared that this time there is just no hope. 

telling friends …

More than anything I don’t want to tell anyone else about my eating disorder. It changes a friendship … I would’t go as far as to say ruins a friendship - but definitely puts an immense strain on the individual I’ve told. And, I’ve ruined enough friendships. BUT, people clearly already know - my housemate has a new girlfriend who is absolutely lovely … but she’s here all the time. What the hell am I meant to do - I can just about eat with my housemates, add someone else into the mix and I’m fucked.

We have another friend who comes around quite a lot now; she’s absolutely lovely, genuinely one of the sweetest girls I know … but yesterday she got so sympathetic - and had the sad look on her face as she told me to be healthy. More than anything - I  don’t want peoples pity. It’s the worst thing in the world when people just look at you like ‘you need help, it’s ok’ kind of thing. Even worse, she is so nice and lovely - I know she’s all the good bits of me without my illness. It’s terrible but I’m almost jealous. It’s clear one of my housemates has just got bored of me/my illness and has basically replaced me with a better person. It’s fair enough - she is so lovely and I’ve turned into my illness … I know I have this scrunched up, ugly soul - and I know it wouldn’t be long until he saw that. And now he has, that’s it. 

trying harder

I feel like I have been trying really hard - but I’m gonna try harder, even if it isn’t food wise. Just general life. Because it’s my constant lack of enthusiasm for anything that makes me annoy people; I really just have to work on doing things properly. I know it’s just through lack of eating that I have no energy - hence the lack of really being able to do things. But, if I can party in Glastonbury non-stop for 5 days … I can tidy my bedroom properly and do other jobs. Only small thing is, I know when I start being tidy and organised - it just feeds (lol) my illness to get worse. But the thing is it’s going to get worse anyway so I might as well do everything not to upset everyone else whilst I get worse. Rather than get worse and piss everyone off at the same time.

bpd and friends

So it is almost definitely me, and not my friends - or this particular person. It must be the combination of lack of food, too much partying, not enough sleep and just tiredness. But I have this growing feeling that I’m pissing this particular person off. And yes maybe the food deprivation and bpd play into this. Maybe I am just overly paranoid. But a part of me knows that’s not true.

When people say to you, we’ll always be there … we won’t leave you - I always take it with a pinch of salt. Especially when I’m relapsing. You see I warn them that they won’t be able to cope. I tell them that just being round me will be draining and soon they’ll have to stop trying to help. And they (with only the best interests) deny this would ever happen - claim that they can always be there. But that’s the problem, they shouldn’t because they’re not - and then I’m fucked. If from the start I knew that they might not be able to cope, if they had maybe admitted that they don’t really understand how terrible I can become when I’m ill, then maybe I’d cope. But it’s the fact that they insist they’ll be there. But (and they don’t even know it), they’re not.

They’ve stopped trying to make me eat which is 1. a huge relief … 2. a sign that they’ve given up. I know that they’re pissed off with me, and it’s worse than anything because I try so hard for them not to be - but it just makes them more angry with me. So then I actively try and stay out of their way because I don’t want to be the reason they’re angry. It’s horrible when they just stope treating me like they always did, and instead just ignore me. Not enough to be directly rude - but a little. Just enough to really confuse me, and make me more and more angry at myself. And just really really fuck with my head. And I see them having fun with other people and just being bored of me; and hey ho I know I’m fucking boring at the moment. but I’m just tired of being given up on. And don’t say you’re angry at my illness and not me - because at this moment in time we’re one of the same thing. 

Basically, I’m 99% this person hates me … but fuck knows - probably the bpd going crazy and just a starved mind. I just wished they’d fucking speak to me because I can’t - I tried and made about 15 phone calls where i had to hang up because in all truthfulness I thought they’d just confirm they’re anger with me. I wonder if this will get resolved - for someone reason it upsets me more than anything has in a long time. For god’s sake, why wasn’t I just normal??

‘Singing in her song she died,
       The Lady of Shalott.’

Singing in her song she died,

       The Lady of Shalott.’

is this real?

I don’t know what to say - I think I’m using this instead of my diary at the moment … maybe I’ll delete this tumblr soon. I feel it might have run it’s course - but there are so many people I want to keep in contact with through here. So confusing. Sometimes when I write I think it’s just me to myself. If I’m on my own I sometimes can make myself believe that I’m the only human left and it is just a way of talking to myself that is outside my own head.

I’m tired of everything really. I’m tired of being angry at myself for having an illness which I can’t justify to myself in terms of the world we live in, and the famine and poverty we’re surrounded by. I’m tired of this bubble of detached existence I’m living, scared to try anything new - but scared to be stuck as I am. 

I know that for me ‘art doesn’t heal’. It’s just not what I am destined to do. There are months where I love it, and months where there is nothing I am less interested in than art. Maybe it’s the bipolar, but I think it’s more likely that it’s me. To be honest the only thing I’m good at is helping others, and being ill myself. It’s so perverse and so boring - but it’s something I am secure and sure in. I feel like it’s the right thing to keep doing. I can’t deserve not to have it.

Sometimes I wonder is it the remains of the guilt brought on by my own religious childhood that makes me feel so worthless. I think the guilt I felt for everything. Man, I actually kind of believe only I will see this - I don’t actually know if I’m writing this. Tomorrow, maybe I’ll know it’s real and take it down or not. It’s a bit to honest and close to the truth. I don’t feel quite myself. I almost feel like I’m watching myself as I write this. Not watching myself but distancing myself from myself. Like there are two of me right now. One typing and one listening.

So back to pondering. I think, if I am actually being honest with myself - it’s a lot of the guilt I felt when I was young. Like I couldn’t stop my sister being hurt. We were both really young and although she was older than me, I felt like I should have protected her - and I failed. I definitely could have done more. And maybe that’s why I can’t deserve to be happy, because I couldn’t protect and make my sister stay happy. I think ultimately, all the pain and distress shrouding my family came/comes from me. The more I think about it, the more I think that whether it is true or not is irrelevant - because I can feel I definitely believe that. Why? I really don’t understand. I mean I never cry, but i actually have tears in my eyes because I know I believe that. I know I believe - no I just know that all the pain that happens around my friends and family somehow stems from some kind of weird darkness I have in myself. And I don’t know how to get rid of it. I try and try and warn people that I can be hurtful, hateful. But then the evil part of me let’s people get near me. Let’s people trust in me. And more dangerously let’s myself trust in other people. Because I genuinely think that me relying on other people sucks them of their own happiness. Somehow I’m a portal for sadness. 

And I don’t know what is to be done about it. Will I be ill forever? If so what kind of existence is that … and more to the point what kind of burden is that on those around me. I’ve already destroyed my family - do I really need to do the same to my friends.

I really just don’t understand anything. I’m up - I’m down - I’m happy - I’m sad - I’m motivated - I’m a slob. I really can’t get these things out … not even voices - but just pages and pages of writing in my head. Like scripts swirling around in my head. None of them properly coherent, apart from the ones finalising and reminding me the only thing I know to be a real … that 1.my illness is real and always there, and 2.I am dangerous to those around me. So where does that leave this situation…i…h.a.v.e…n.o…i.d.e.a…

highs and lows

So weird - I’ve gone from being insanely low the last week … to now swinging to really really happy. And I know this feeling, I know one small thing is gonna trigger and suddenly I’m gonna crash really hard. It’s a bit scary. 

I know it’s ridiculous - but sometimes it happens, and then becomes a cycle … and then you can’t do anything - and then everyone thinks you’re a dick because you’re not helping yourself. But sometimes you just can’t help yourself. 

I know it’s ridiculous - but sometimes it happens, and then becomes a cycle … and then you can’t do anything - and then everyone thinks you’re a dick because you’re not helping yourself. But sometimes you just can’t help yourself.