tired

i eat noodles - raw because cooking them would take too long, three biscuits, two mini chocolate bars, a big bowl of cereal, popcorn, another chocolate bar. i spin myself into a web of spun sugar raspberry cheesecake. i lose myself in a carbohydrate blur.

afterwards i don't even bother trying to puke up the stinking cesspool in my stomach. it never works. my body holds on to the food. my body needs it. i need it.

i don't need it. i don't need it. i don't need it.

i lie on the couch in a tangle of blankets, the heat pump blowing stale breath into my face. i'm hot. i think i'm getting sick.

i fall asleep listening to the news, simon dallow, wendy petrie. they remind me of my childhood. i dream restlessly and wake up with a start when the garage door opens and my lap is filled with wet cat and my ears are filled with the familiar Dad-talking-to-the-kids-when-he's-in-a-good-mood voice.

i go upstairs and lie on my bed. sleep hovers around my edges. things start to get blurry. i make a new promise:

i will do better. i will do better. i have to. else i think i'll die. and i'd rather be dead than living in the in-between, like now.