What a nightmare this week has been. My cousin in Kalos just started on his Pokémon journey and he hasn't stopped fucking texting me about his Fennekin and it pissed me off because every time I got a text documenting the precocious adventures of Blaze or whatever its name was, I would have to go through all my from him and count how many words they had and copying them to my clipboard if they had an odd number, counting them twice if they were about Pokémon. So if he texted me twice in the span of five minutes, it meant I would have to keep scrolling back again. And again. And again. And I couldn't take it anymore and I might have ended up texting him a tirade of angry and scattered emotions peppered with a little more swearing than is reasonably appropriate for a ten-year old boy. When I heard his response chime, I braced myself.
"Chill!" It said. "Don't get mad at me just cuz u couldn't go on ur journey! Stop being so jealous of me!"
I threw my phone against the wall.
When I picked it up again, the screen was cracked, a cobweb of fractures that made most texts nigh illegible.
Shit.
How do I explain that to my parents?
Oh, but that wasn't all. This weekend actually has been a literal nightmare, because every time I go to sleep all I see and hear are voices taunting me and mocking me for my weakness and my weirdness and my illness. So I haven't exactly been doing much sleeping. Caffeine makes my compulsions worse, so I've been keeping myself up with the glare of my computer screen and occasional freezing cold showers (ie: mildly cool showers because I'm getting dangerously thin and I'm cold all the time). Walking also helps, but I can only really do it during that brief period of time where I know for a fact that absolutely nobody would be wandering the streets. I feel like I'm freezing. Is it winter? I feel like I've lost track of the days, of the seasons. Am I still fifteen, even? What if my birthday passed by and no one told me? I'll have to check the date later. But the cold isn't winter, probably not. It's probably July and I'm just cold because I'm approaching that skeleton stage.
I don't have an eating disorder, I swear. I have a lot of eating rituals that are just exhausting and not worth doing, and I'm not really hungry very often anymore. Even when I took the time to get through my eating compulsions and have some mint chocolate chip ice cream, which is one of my favorite foods, I couldn't enjoy it, and I couldn't even eat more than one spoonful. So I haven't really been eating, because that's way too much work for too little reward. If it gets critical I'll eat. Actually, wait, shit, what if I die? What if I actually starve to death and no one notices? What if my family only notices when it's too late and I'm growing fur and my actual hair is falling out and the muscles around my bladder atrophy and I just die in a pool of my own piss? Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. Sorry, diary, I need to go count the visible bones, make sure I'm OK. Maybe I should eat.
OK I'm back. I just spent half an hour trying to eat an apple. God, I'm such a mess. Maybe I'll be able to work up to something bigger. Maybe one day.
