There Is, In The End, The Letting

There Was A Time When I Was Unable To Get Out Of Bed Because My Body, Its Muscles Eating Themselves Away, Refused To Sit Up. There Was A Time When The Lies Rolled Off My Tongue With Ease, When It Was Far More Important To Me To Self-destruct Than To Admit I Had A Problem, Let Alone Allow Anyone To Help.

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.

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.

I Began To Measure Things In Absence Instead Of Presence.

I Mean, We All Know The Dangers Of Starving, But Bulimia? That Can't Be That Bad. It's Only Bad When You Get Really Thin. Who Worries About Bulimics? They're Just Gross.