Well last night was an epic fail.
I went to one of my best friends party, where I got absoulty smashed. Then I had a bright idea to take 3 of my medication pills to get a kick. After making out with a girl and smoking three fags (both reaallyy not my thing) I collapsed onto the floor and my body went cold. I threw up several times, which was discusting because I hadn't eaten much that day so after the first throw up I was just throwing up nothing which is the worst feeling in the world. Then I passed out.
I wake up to find myself in my friends brothers room, I am being dragged back downstairs. My friend is in deep shit because his parents know we have been drinking and smoking. I lay on the floor and thats when its starts to really hit home.
I start shaking uncontrolably and my hole body is freezing cold. I start shouting I'm going to die, I'm going to die. My friends frantically start shouting at one another discusing what to do. I know they are all screaming but their voices sound muffled, the clock booms loudly in my ears again and again and again and I am possitive I am going to die. My eyes are bloodshot I hear someone say and another person tells me my eyes are going crazy and cannot just stay still and focus. I command them to ring my mother because I wanted to speak to her one last time before I died.
I start crying because everybody is screaming and nobody will let me speake to my mum. Finally the phone is thrusted into my pale, sweaty hand which is still violently shaking, and I listen to my mothers soothing voice. I end the call.
The next thing I know, I am crying histerically saying again and again "I'm so unhappy, I'm so unhappy" One of my closest friends asks me why and I say to her you know you know why (because I told her a few years ago that I use to be anorexic), she clearly has forgotten, and I realise that I can't tell her I'm now bulimic so instead I whisper to her to pull up the sleeve of my jumper. She starts going hysterical again when she sees the five slashes that have been etched into my skin.
It seems like seconds have gone by, but I'm being dragged out into the icy coldness where everything has been swallowed whole by the darkness. My mother rushes towards me and I keep sobbing again and again "I am so unhappy". She talks to my friends who are in the process of ratting on me. She takes me home, tears streaking down her face saying I know baby I know your unhappy.
I go to sleep unsuccesfully, I cry, I shout, I throw up. I don't eat.
Today my father took me on a long walk and we talked and talked and he lectured and lectured. He told me about my cousin who also had bulimia and asked me if I wanted to speake to her. I said no. Later he told me that he had spoken to my cousin about my problem and then he wanted me to speake to her about it. FUCK NO. no no no i said, its my buisness not theirs.
I told my mum and she said " its because she doesn't want to talk about it, she had it for 2 and 1/2 years. It was very serious, it wasn't just making herself sick a few times."
I wanted to throw the t.v over my mothers head. Just because I haven't been making myself sick for two and 1/2 years doesn't mean its not fucking serious. And how can she be so dumb as to think that I've only made myself sick just a few times. Crist my mother is such a bitch sometimes.
URGHHH. URGGHHHH.
If I can give one piece of advice, it will be this. - Tell nobody your secrets, because once they are out, the world doesn't suddenly turn happy and magical. Everything just gets 10 times worse, and then you have nobody to blame but yourself. Whoever said honesty was the best policy hasn't tried living in my shoes.
