Lost Supposedly Funny Dragoness

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...

Only being able to eat with small spoons, filling my hunger with questionable products, counting grapes, denying the symptoms of under-eating... These are just some of the bizarre symptoms of my eating disorders. Today I'm going to write about some of them. Important note : this piece of writing is mainly dedicated to people who have never had an eating disorder. If you suffer or are trying to recover, think twice before reading it, and definitely don't take it as an instruction on how to eat less. ONLY BEING ABLE TO EAT WITH SMALL SPOONS When I was at my lowest, I got into a weird habit that I'm still trying to change - at home I can only eat with small spoons or chopsticks because it makes me eat really slowly and mindfully, which means I feel fuller by eating less. I'm not even sure if I'm completely convinced that this is true, but when I eat out, I feel really uncomfortable using normal spoons or forks. After trying to recover for a few months now (I've ha...