Lost Supposedly Funny Dragoness

"You're too thin anyway," is what they like to say to me when I open up about my eating disorders. Some of them tell me that men don't like thin women. That gay men are the ones who set beauty standards for our bodies. "Men don't just like bones," they say with - I'm sure - the best of intentions. These kinds of comments trigger me even more than people - especially men - telling me that I'm "not that thin" or that I look great because I'm skinny or that I have amazing legs. Even more than those who confirm my belief that I'll be unlovable when my ribs are no longer visible due to weight gain. What people who make these two kinds of comments don't understand (or choose to ignore) is that eating disorders are not simply the visualisation of a thin body, they are a state of mind. Being thin has been a huge part of my identity all my life. The abs that are only visible because of my low percentage of body fat are one of the few...

Before I started school I was a happy child. Sure, I was anxious and everyone knew me as a shy little girl, but at home, where I felt safe, I could relax, laugh and sing and talk and talk and talk until my dad half-jokingly told me to shut up. I'm not really sure what changed when I started school, but it was around the age of seven that I first started to feel suicidal. I didn't think much of it, and I don't feel like I was so deeply unhappy at the time that I just wanted to end my misery or some deep shit like that: I just didn't see the point of living. I simply felt like I was floating and there was nothing to gain from living. I'm lucky enough to have amazing parents who love me unconditionally and the only reason I didn't jump out of a window then was because I knew how much my death would hurt them. As the years went by, my social anxiety escalated rapidly. I always had a group of people I hung out with at school, but I never felt that any of them were my...

Here they are again: the thoughts. They are with me on my way to the bus stop when I see a car speeding. One step is all it takes ... On the bus I listen to The Songs Of A Lost World and try to imagine the world we have supposedly lost. It seems so dreamy in a grotesque way. I can't seem to escape the thoughts during lunch either. What if I just stopped (eating) forever? If I listen to the voices that express the thoughts, will I be able to experience the lost world? Just a short shit story (I wanted to let it out).

"The day after my birthday, something will change," I think, rolling restlessly in my bed on Friday. But what exactly? Maybe I can stop pretending, or maybe I will disappear. "The day after my twenty-first birthday will be Monday," I say aloud during my training on Saturday morning. I might take off the masks that protect those close to me from getting hurt. "The day after my birthday, everything might change," I cry inwardly as I perfect my make-up. Maybe I don't have to look perfect anymore, or I'll disappear for hours, or for a day, or forever, because after my birthday, no one will care. No one will call, they won't care as much as they do now. "On Monday, the day after my twenty-first birthday, something has to change," my soul cries. The stale cake in the fridge, the brightly coloured wrapping paper and make-up removal tissues in the bin will be the last remnants of the perfect celebration of my perfect little life. "When I...

For the first time, I am thinking about harming myself. It is a kind of cry for help but just the thought of it seems so comforting. It's terrible, because weeks go by from days when everything is almost great, then I'm down again, then I'm in a good mood again... at least I'm not bored? Unfortunately, or fortunately, or whatever, the scissors are too blunt, so there is a thin scratch above my ankle, which is slowly swelling up. Why am I so prone to self-destruction? Feeling sorry for myself, starving myself, turning negative emotions inwards, and now cutting myself? Somehow I can't bring myself to express my feelings outwardly. To be angry at someone else, to blame society for my problems. To take it out on my friends or my parents. I don't want to burden them with my problems. I will be fine. Someday. Maybe. Is physical pain better than psychological pain? What about the scalpel I use for bread? Would that work? After several cuts in the same wound with blunt ...

Slovenska verzija je pod angleško. INSOMNIA After several sleepless nights, I am exhausted. The bed is just the right softness for my body. I feel a little warm, so I pull my bare arm out from under the covers. Perfection. I turn over on my stomach, reflecting on the day behind me, and smile involuntarily as I remember my sister's amusing statement. I write another positive in my head. A quiet sigh. I look forward to listening carefully to the lecture tomorrow while taking notes and getting down to the business of getting up to date with my work for college. And exhale. I am slowly slipping into sleep. Inhaling. My thoughts are becoming more and more fogg-. Exhale. I slip smoothly into a deep, dreamless sleep. I can't get comfortable. A thin beam of light shines into my head through the half-closed door. I have lectures tomorrow, I need to get to sleep as soon as possible. The bed is too soft, I feel hot. I pull back the covers, but soon I'm cold. I think about the day behi...

English version follows. Prostrana gozdna jasa, na kateri sem gola. Moje noge so gladke, brez dlačic ali ureznin, sijoči kodri se mi lahkotno in brez napak usipajo po hrbtu, koža je svetleča in mehka. Izžarevam rahlo srebrnkasto svetlobo. Sem ideja same sebe. Trava je rahlo vlažna od hladne rose, tla pa nikakor niso blatna. V bližini ni preveč grozečega čričkanja žuželk, brnenje je rahlo oddaljeno. Podnevi občasno dežuje, vendar dež ni moteče hladen, pač pa prijetno topel in rahel, tako da ne ovira pogleda na skrivnosten gozd, ki me obdaja. Ure in ure ležim na tleh, ponoči opazujem zvezde, podnevi pa zablodele srne, zajce in kolonije mravelj ter prisluhnem jatam ptic, ki v svoji harmonični razglašenosti pomirjujoče čivkajo. Ko dežuje, vstanem in se smejim in vrtim in vrtim in vrtim … Dnevi so ravno prav topli, noči pa rahlo hladnejše, zavijem se v odejo, ki se gladko zliva z mojo kožo. Ogromna jasa, na kateri sedim sključena in gola. Do nje ne pride veliko sonca, saj jo obdajajo grot...