||[20 Apr 2003|07:32pm]
Well after these first five days of vacation, I am safe to say that the escape from routine, when handed to you, can be a great gift if it's truly stable.
I have regrasped the love for hunger and emptiness. When the pain is full of starvation, it is quite theraputic. Four days of restriction have not only helped my fat dissapear into the nights with the alcohol running in and through my body, but the emptiness has succeeded in it's all-too-well-known ability to fill you up.
whew, fuck bulemia.
Well.. bulemic with anorexic tendencies.
A day hasn't gone by when I didn't puke at least once.
Chris holding my and caressing my ribs makes me forget about the calories in the shots of lemon drop shots and the desire to get rid of them, his grasp allows me fall into the full realization of that forgotten hunger, that constant hunger brought on by fasting and restriction.
Tomorrow starts my alcohol fast.
Yesterday morning, once again, I woke up with Chris holding me. The previous night had been my worst so far, as explained in an earlier entry, and waking up with him reassured me that he was still there. But there was some extent of attachment missing that I wasn't comfortable with. I needed, I wanted - to know what he was thinking. I don't need you, Chris, I just need stability. Don't let that need be mistaken for needing you. I pulsed to him. Of course, I wasn't successful in reaching him. (-lol, moment of insanity, thank you very much)
Him and Stratman left to run some errands and hang out at Chris's for the day. I had my alone time and continued to clean the party mess. They walked in while I was doing dishes and announced that the power was out at Chris's and they needed to hook something up. They ended staying until 1am the next morning. We painted easter eggs with about 10 other people and watched a movie until about 1 when they left for their own beds. Strat continued his nightly routine of staying at my house. Yuck - this bothers me.
I went to bed alone and hugged stuffed animals and pillows to try to replace another person. Woke up around 9am and checked who was in my house and where. Strat in Keith's room, Lou and his friend in my parent's. Safe. Check the kitchen: yes, Tommy cleaned the mess. Okay, call dad, "When are you picking me up?" okay, half hour. Go upstairs, wear something pastel. Skirt too, it's easter. Okay, skirt, okay, pastel.. and.. oh wait.. white shirt with tie, yes. New sandals, yes. Okay, okay. Makeup? No, no makeup. Hair? no, no hair. Shower? .. no, no shower. pastels, yes, white shirt, yes, skirt, yes.
Yay, I'm seven years old again ready to go to Grandma's party with Daddy. My big brown eyes stare at the traditional sights of Kings Park on Easter; line at the bakery, line at the butcher's, line at the card shop. And there's the little flower stand. Oh pretty flowers. Nice, pretty flowers for mommy. Uh oh, Mommy's in California and I'm all alone. Okay, well, Daddy goes to the butcher and I get some coffee. Okay, off to Daddy's house til 2pm when we go to Grandma's for Easter dinner. We go to Uncle Richie's now. His house is bigger, newer. I miss the smell of Grandpa's pipes, and Cindey, my dear, life long dog at Grandma's house. They stay home, the smell and Cindey, they stay home in the old, smelly house. Okay Daddy's done at the butcher's. Spend some time at daddy's. Go to Easter dinner now. Chocolate, lots of chocolate. Crackers and cheese and peperoni. Wow, all the colors of food are overwhelming!
We got to my uncle's and I truly missed going to my Grandma's. When my aunt got remarried, she moved into a house with my cousins, so that's been the spot. I don't like this at all. I just hung out with my cousin and started binging and watched Armagedon. Text messaged chris which is always interesting and just hung out til I
faked sick and went home. But first, we stopped at my Nanny's (Grandma's) house and had a good conversation. My Nanny lost a lot of weight, and she loved when I told her how noticeable it was. She told me I am the thinnest I've ever been. I got red in the face. Then, we had a good, light, political conversation (my grandfather is Syrian) and that was that.
4th hour home alone. What to do tonight. Alone and cold. Alone and cold.