The Madness Is There, And

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.

My God! People Say. You Have So Much Self-control! And Later: My God. You're So, So Sick. When People Say This, They Turn Their Heads, You've Won Your Little Game. You Have Proven Your Thesis That No-body-loves-me-every-body-hates-me, Guess-i'll-just-eat-worms. You Get To Sink Back Into Your Hospital Bed, Shrieking With Righteous Indignation. See? You Get To Say. I Knew You'd Give Up On Me. I Knew You'd Leave.

There's Childhood And Early Onset Bipolar, But It Transitions In Your Early Adulthood Into Something A Little Bit Different, And Extremely Severe. It Was At That Time That My Impulse Control Just Went Out The Window. Impulse Control When You're Manic Just Disappears.

In Her Presence, I Was Reminded Again Of Why I Was An Anoretic: Fear. Of My Needs, For Food, For Sleep, For Touch, For Simple Conversation, For Human Contact, For Love. I Was An Anoretic Because I Was Afraid Of Being Human. Implicit In Human Contact Is The Exposure Of The Self, The Interaction Of The Selves. The Self I'd Had, Once Upon A Time, Was Too Much. Now There Was No Self At All. I Was A Blank.

• This Seems Impossible To Me. It Seems Biologically Impossible To Stay The Same Size, Although I Must. It Seems One Must Always Be Either Bigger Or Smaller Than They Were At Some Arbitrary Point In Time To Which All Things Are Compared. The Panties That Are Possibly Tighter Than They Were. When? You Can't Say When. But You Are Absolutely Positive No Question That It's True.