Genererie Laforge (ultimaverizon) wrote in ed_ucate,
Genererie Laforge

I've been meaning to write an article for a hell of a long time now, Under the cut is just something I scribbled down to add to my portfolio, (having just read wasted funnily enough, hehe)...

It deals in part with bulimia and anorexia, I don't know if its of interest to anyone, it may be totally off point, but there you go...if you like it enjoy if not...I'm sorry.


I remember a time when it was all, nothing. In a different sense than now. That nothing consisted of lazy days choosing channels, and dreaming carefree dreams. The nothingness now is an absorbing mass of negative blackholes, skipping around the empty mind with each beat cutting a million tears into the bloodsteam. It is no longer carefree. Its very nature is full of crippling care, and yet at the same time I have lost it all.

I often try to understand and trace back to the beginning of it all. It all seems so simple to trap it down to recent adulthood. And yet, seems too much to define it back into the formative baby steps of a child. I guess the answer lies somewhere in the middle distance.

I was always aware of myself. I was always aware of being alive, seeing things with my eyes, and yet I seemed always confused by existence itself - my humanity, my body, my mind, I guess you could say I was always overawed by every minute of it all. I remember as a child looking out into the sky on my driveway, and wondering who am I? I know my name, but what am I? how did I come here, I don’t feel like I quite understand something, and the confusion of all this was engrossing. I felt very much my own soul, very much alone, and very safe in this.

I could say that the safety and self exploration that I found in my times alone began to have an effect from that point. The sound of others exploded in my head during my first years at school. I was fine with myself, I did not know any other. I didn’t have the time to explore anyone else. It seemed like everyone knew each other. I was told teachers noted I used to enjoy losing myself under the school table. I vaguely remember the comfort I found in this, able to block myself out from the comotion surrounding me, able to regain my control and safety in my own space.

I am no longer able to duck under the table, I no longer need to. I find myself camoflaguing into my own space, like a magic trick. I’m able to coexist in both my own space and the space around me. I am actively a part of neither, I am spread between both. While I appear to be beside others in body, I am within my own safe boundaries. I find it in a million different ways. Mostly I draw up the barriers with obessions, with numbers, calories, and music. I will never tell you, lest it not be mine any more, it may not be there.

The darkness I would later encounter in my days shook my foundations for some time. It threatened to undermine my space, and turn it rotten. How can I feel safe and confident in my mind if, it may be weak, and riddled with inadequacies. I wrestle with it out of my system, but it always haunts me, and floods me with fear. The strength inside of me may be totally false and ready to collapse, and that I cannot deal with.

I try to bargain deals with it, find some kind of coalition for power of myself with the darkness. If I allow it to paint the walls black, then at least the walls will still stand, right? So I loosen the grip on the rope a little, and try to embrace the dark side of personality.

I’m waking up in the middle of a shopping mall. I’m not meant to be here, I wasn’t involved in the journey my body made to get here. I’m a mere spectator looking out through my eyes the same way a child peers through the car window on a day out to the beach with their parents. I find myself propelled to a fast food window, and suddenly money I cant afford is being coaxed from my pocket like a snake to a flute. I gorge and smile I gorge and slide away. I’m shot back to the world of the living, and if my emotions were properly awoken by this point i’d be crying, instead i’m tied up from the inside. I feel every strand and sinew of food twisting into knots and sticking two fingers up at me. I soon will be sticking two fingers back at it.

Its a funny thing, perfection. One certainly can’t find it staring down a public toilet seat. But soon thats exactly where I am searching for it. It’s at this point that I desperately want to beat my body into such a stupor that it paralyses it from making any more stupid decisions like I just made at the food hall. I watch the food collect right where I see its true home to be. Maybe if I can establish such a visual link, I hope, maybe I will gorge no more. I feel suddendly a great warmth. I feel the victor, I feel like I have saved a once hopeless situation, and can already imagine the dividends I will feel standing in front of the same mirror in days to come.

I certainly don’t feel that now. The dark curtain drops down, and covers every inch of my mind. Staring at recent events face to face, I feel nothing but worry and fear. There is something buried under some fallen rubble, telling me that its all wrong, and wanting to tell me know that I am capable, it is possible. But I turn into the darkness and run like there is no tomorrow.

Deaf, I begin to seek out signs that I’m alive. I crawl along through the hours, until an ache appears in my stomach. I want to feel the glimpses of humanity come through stronger, and so I grind my body along further through time, until the ache reaches every nerve in my body its capable of. I begin to link this ache to as many things as I possibly can. The increasing gap in my jeans, the watch that starts to slide loosely up and down my wrist, beautiful bones. Positive reinforcement, oh the irony.

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