Monday 17th October 1999
Dear Diary,
It has been nearly two full days since I have left my room. I have survived thus far on a couple of packets of crisps and a bag of peanuts. The only food left in my room is chocolate and I desperately want to avoid eating that, but I can't possibly leave my room, because through my bedroom door lie the people who judge me.
I am stuck in a scene from Anthony Burgess's A Clockwork Orange. I am the protagonist, Alex, as his eyelids are held open and he is forced to watch scenes of violence whilst feeling the effects of a nausea inducing drug. Only, my movie theatre is playing and replaying clips from my last two encounters with Toby. The film is expertly cut with images of grotesque blubber clinging to my bones, and fatty foods leaping down my throat. I don't need a drug to make me want to vomit.
If I don't leave my room then I can't go to lectures, but at least I can stay away from Toby and the others, and at least I can get thin again. Beautiful and pure and thin. Perhaps I will become the envy of everybody who mocks me now. Perhaps they'll find me dead in a few week's time. Perhaps I don't really mind if they do.
Sherlock Holmes
x
