Breaking

February 6, 2010 at 10:12 pm | In CBT, Eating disorders, Going Postal, Sadly Not Fiction, The Study | 11 Comments
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Dear Lola,

It’s hard for me to start this letter, mostly because in my mind I am trying to write it to myself, my younger self, my self 3 years ago now. But in my head, my younger Self, you are nothing but an abstract concept, a thing of curiosity. A tender spot to be poked at.

I can’t send this letter back in time to you, even if you existed, that would be an impossibility.

Sometimes I think of you as a damaged younger sister. I want to grab you, Lola. I want to put my arms around you, and hold your shaking, sobbing mess of a frame, until the tension has melted away. Until Our sadness has melted away. But as yet I cannot touch you. You are behind the glass at a museum. You have a brass inscription. “Lola, Once Was, 2007″

This letter is a formal apology. Continue reading Breaking…

Ha Ha Ha Ha

February 5, 2010 at 3:06 pm | In Eating disorders | 19 Comments

It’s wrong.

The last post.

I just read it back and realised it couldn’t have actually happened like that.

Like when you see a digital watch in a costume drama. Mr Darcy poncing about in a top hat and Swatch. It couldn’t have happened like that. Or could it? I actually, genuinely don’t know.

There, valuable lesson learnt. If you spend the night seeing shadows crossing doorways when you are blatantly home alone, then don’t try and write historic posts about traumatic events. I do not know whether to be shocked, horrified, or laugh. I may laugh. In fact I am laughing. Very loudly and not in the good way.

I have actually no idea who I am anymore.

Connections

February 5, 2010 at 9:46 am | In Jake, Sadly Not Fiction | Comments Off
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It’s a Golf GTI. No, I don’t happen to know what year it is, the car I mean, the year on the calendar is 1999, but the car is timeless. It’s grey and has four wheels, two doors and an electric sunroof. What? OK, fine. Three doors if you include the boot. If you can call it a boot, it’s more like a graveyard for car stereos and a gigantic subwoofer as the church. A piece of equipment that if connected properly makes the travel experience like returning to the womb. If that is, your Mother’s uterus happened to like soft American house music and have the faint odour of pine.

Continue reading Connections…

The Prison Garden

February 2, 2010 at 3:44 am | In Eating disorders, Subtext, The Study | 19 Comments
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The night was as still as chrome and twice as shiny. Jasmine would blow in the breeze, but the breeze has never touched this garden. Everything here is motionless, not paused, just never started. This place is a place where time has no context. The lake would ripple and glint but lies motionless, ice without cold, glass without a bottom, water without any moisture. Weeping willows droop, yet tense in their falling tendrils. A swan doesn’t glide across the lake. Bull rushes tipped in chalk are as taught as bow strings. Continue reading The Prison Garden…

And

February 1, 2010 at 6:09 pm | In Eating disorders | 28 Comments

Text To Jane: Blah Blah, just found out that I am possibly suffering from PTSD. Been signed off work for a month. So sorry I couldn’t come to your party, but I didn’t want to ruin it for you.

Text from Jane: I’m sorry that you’re not having a good time at the moment again. I was disappointed that you didn’t make the effort to come even just to say hi, life does go on and only you can pick yourself up Continue reading And…

Blackout

January 31, 2010 at 8:22 pm | In Eating disorders, Friends, Jake | 21 Comments
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Sorry, this is kind of ranty.

When that snowball starts, it grows quickly. Rolling faster and faster downhill, scooping up anything in it’s path, until it becomes a tangle of arms and legs and possessions. I feel like this thing has snowballed now, and is speeding off down the slope. Possibly towards the village at the bottom. I’m waiting for someone to look out of their chalet window, put down their Grappa and warn their neighbours. “Look out! Avalanche!”

Continue reading Blackout…

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