Anorexia And Bulimia Seem To Be Getting

Madness Strips You Of Memory And Leaves You Scrabbling Around On The Floor Of Your Brain For The Snatches And Snippets Of What Happened, What Was Said, And When.

For Me, The First Sign Of Oncoming Madness Is That I'm Unable To Write.

There Is, In The End, The Letting Go.

You Never Come Back, Not All The Way. Always There Is An Odd Distance Between You And The People You Love And The People You Meet, A Barrier Thin As The Glass Of A Mirror, You Never Come All The Way Out Of The Mirror; You Stand, For The Rest Of Your Life, With One Foot In This World And No One In Another, Where Everything Is Upside Down And Backward And Sad.

I Have Not Lost My Fascination With Death. I Have Not Become A Noticeably Less Intense Person. I Have Not, Nor Will I Ever, Completely Lose The Longing For That Something, That Thing That I Believe Will Fill An Emptiness Inside Me. I Do Believe That The Emptiness Was Made Greater By The Things That I Did To Myself.