witty-remark's Diaryland Diary




Something very terrifying happened to me this morning. Something that enlightened me about one thing that most individuals don't need a shred of perception on; something that's second nature to them. Part of the three things human beings do instinctively. Eat, breathe, sleep.

After 3 days of not eating, I had become completely incapable of recognizing my own hunger. The feeling must have become so persistent that I had adopted it as a norm. On the fifth day, this morning, I woke up feeling faint and as though my bones were made from thin sheets of porcelain. My heart hurt so badly, I imagined it tying itself into a knot each time it constricted. Inside my ribcage, I tried to think what it looked like. A small red and wrinkled entity, like a shriveled raisin, struggling to continue pumping. I rolled out of bed, quit literally, onto the floor, and stood up feeling as though my head were an anvil. As had become my daily regiment, I made my way to the scale. 102.2 lbs. Not quite there yet, I thought to myself, but perhaps tomorrow. I wobbled to the bathroom and the second I stood up to flush, something washed over me. My eyes began to cloud up and I clung to the sides of the sink as my vision suddenly dissipated and I watched my own reflection fade to black.
"No, no, no, NO. Not now, please not right now"
I could feel myself slipping out of consciousness, but I fought it long enough to stumble against my sudden blindness and feel for the doorknob.

With my vision completely gone, the short trek from the bathroom to my bedroom stretched longer than I could have ever dreamt. The railing. The molding. The hardwood floor. Any indication as to where I was heading was reciprocated with a sigh of relief. When I made it to my room, a buzz began circulating through my head, like pressing your ear against a radio that only transmits static. Shortly after, I couldn't hear anything. I wanted to run downstairs to ask for help, and despite being too weak to ever actually do more than a woozy side-to-side wobble, the two things actually stopping me from doing so were my embarrassment from being in my underwear and a tight black shirt with no bra underneath and the fact that I had gotten myself into such a fix over something so incredibly stupid.

At this point, in my daze, I began praying out loud. In such desperation that I almost didn't know what was dribbling out from my mouth.

"Dear God, please help me. God, please restore my vision. I promise if you help I'll eat, I promise if you help I'll eat. God please help me, God, please help."

In what I can only attribute to a testament of prayer, and a skeptic's incredulous eye roll, I'm sure, my vision slowly returned. At first, I could make out the outline of shapes and figures, then slowly I could entirely see again. My ears cleared up as well as I rushed to slip into some pants and took my top off to wear a bra. Still feeling airy and bewildered, I just prayed I wouldn't drop down topless, completely vulnerable. That's the last way I would ever want someone to find me. After I had worn my bra and thrown on a loose, baggy t-shirt, something I wore in the past to detract from my weight loss, I lunged towards a jar of nutella sitting beside my bed. I struggled to undo the lid, but the moment it unscrewed, I plunged two fingers deep into that chocolate spread and licked it up.

After, I hung onto the banister leading downstairs with such a devastating grip that my knuckles were struck bone white and as though they had underdone rigamortis.

I spent breakfast explaining to my grandmother what had just happened, and as she brewed tea and sliced me an apple, all I could do was apologize to God.


12:03 p.m. - Saturday, Jun. 20, 2009

Then - Now

Latest Entry

About Me






other diaries: