I Have Not Lost My Fascination With

Falling In Love Happens So Suddenly That It Seems, All At Once, That You Have Always Been In Love.

In That Six Months, So Much Happened That Death Seemed, Primarily, Inconvenient. The Trial Period Was Extended. I Seem To Keep Extending It. There Are Many Things To Do. There Are Books To Write And Naps To Take. There Are Movies To See And Scrambled Eggs To Eat. Life Is Essentially Trivial. You Either Decide You Will Take The Trite Business Of Life And Give Yourself The Option Of Doing Something Really Cool, Or You Decide You Will Opt For The Grand Epic Of Eating Disorders And Dedicate Your Life To Being Seriously Trivial.

Anorexia And Bulimia Seem To Be Getting Much More Common In Boys, Men, And Women Of All Ages And Socioeconomic Backgrounds; They Are Also Becoming More Common In Racial Groups Previously Thought To Be Impervious To The Problem.

My Brain Sometimes Departs From The Agreed-upon Reality, And My Private Reality Is A Very Lonely Place. But In The End, I'm Not Sure I Wish I'd Never Gone There.

I Threw Up Again That Night, Half-afraid That My Eyeballs Would Explode. But It Was, By Far, More Important That I Get Rid Of Dinner. Of Course, By Then, Throwing Up Was The Only Way I Knew How To Deal With Fear. That Paradox Would Begin To Run My Life: To Know That What You Are Doing Is Hurting You, Maybe Killing You, And To Be Afraid Of That Fact--but To Cling To The Idea That This Will Save You, It Will, In The End, Make Things Okay.