Infestation

Somehow You're Dying Now

 Back to school for my Junior year. I had applications in for jobs, and I had a body I was beginning to like, and I had changed so damn much. I walked into those same doors; I think I was wearing my Whitechapel jersey and some skinny jeans. It was all to show off the body.

I was stoked. People though, they didn't notice. No one seemed to care, and as I replayed all the shit I had done over the past few months; it was honestly odd.

I just sort of remained in my head space, sick.

This was a point where I started to get even sicker. I had that goal weight of 100 pounds, and yet it seemed to have shifted. It went to 95 pounds, and then by the second week it was 82. I found myself wishing to be lower, yet stuck. I couldn't break 110, no matter how hard I tried.

So time kept going.

I remember when binging seemed to become more apparent. I remember this one vividly.

I had come home from school, and I was hungry; I ate my usual like 400 calories, and ended at my allotted 800, but I ate a bit more. I went back for more food, and then more, and before I knew it I was at 1300.

I felt awful, and terribly full.

You may think: "1300 isn't anything" It's not now, but at that point it was, and I hadn't eaten that much since the beginning of July.

I wasn't sure what to do in the time. I felt awful, and somehow decided retail therapy for a new journal would be the right thing.

So I went out with my sister, bought a Harry Potter journal and went back home. I had earlier decided to not do any exercise, but then my ass was stupid, and I went into the basement, and worked out.

I found this workout so solitary. I was so alone. I felt so alone, and no one cared it seemed. I was so lost. I was so damn lost. The entire session was just reflections on everything I was doing.

The next morning I woke up at 109.8. It was another one of those nights, and I had broke.

So I spend the next week fluctuating between 109-112, and eventually I noticed I felt awful. I had stopped eating lunch at school, so I could eat more later, but I always felt awful. My body felt heavy, I felt dead in a way.

By this point all I wanted to do was pass out at school, so someone would see, and I would have a reason to eat again. I felt I wasn't allowed to eat, and this would let me.

Alas, I never passed out, and just grew worth. A week after hitting 109, I hit 108.4. It seemed almost crazy, as the number came out of nowhere.

I had to pee literally all the time, and it was ridiculous. I was half-dead; disordered as hell, and I pissed all the time. It all had become such a reality. I was sick, sick as hell, and this shit was probably going to kill me if I continued.

I kept going. I had a schedule that seemed ridiculous, especially as I was still training and working out the whole time. I was on

750

750

850

850

850

900

850

Never straying from it. I stopped eating lunch, unless I felt awful, and I would get some vegetables from the cafeteria.

Recovery began to cross my mind. It began to become something I toyed with. The idea of being at the end of the year, and I was thin, but I was eating. It began to cross everything I did. I wanted it, I truly did, but I was scared, because I finally liked myself, and to destroy it all would be awful.