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. 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 |
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